


no one's the killer and no one's the martyr

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kara Thrace outrode, outroped, outshot, and outdrank the men, and then she came to work for Hellraiser Cain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no one's the killer and no one's the martyr

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: AU (I think of it as the _Brokeback Mountain_ AU or, as sunshine_queen calls it, Lesbians On A Ranch)  
>  Pairing: Kara/Cain, Cain/Gina, Kara/Cain/Gina, Kara/Sam, Kara/Lee, Kara/Laura, Laura/Bill, Dee/Billy, Gaeta/Hoshi, Kara/Zak  
> A/N: First of all, this story would have been impossible to write without and her constant encouragement. You've kept me honest. You made this fic a whole fic. I owe you everything, bb! was also an excellent cheerleader, and kept me supplied with coffee. Without their tender care, I'd have 10000 words of unconnected porn scenes and no plot. Thank you, ladies. ♥ Thank you also to Regina Spektor, from whose song "Consequence of Sounds" the title comes. I wanted to write a Cain/Gina story with that title for several months and this is what came of it.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

She looks like she was born in those jeans. They're skin-tight and dusty, not so much broken in as busted. She spurs her horse into the corral like a movie, swings off before the little stallion's even skidded to a stop. Kara tugs her hat down a little to cut the glare and sets her teeth. So this is Helena Cain. Hellraiser to her friends, just plain Hell to her enemies and her, well, folks call 'em her intimates. Nobody says it to her face for fear of getting shot, but the rumors fly. Any rate, Kara sure as hell hasn't come this far to turn back.

Cain slaps her hands on her thighs and smacks her horse on the ass, sending it skittering across the corral to the trough. She turns on one sharp boot heel and saunters over to the rail where Kara's standing, rolling like she don't really know how to handle the ground.

"So you're Kara Thrace," she says.

Kara touches the brim of her hat. "Ma'am."

"Hope you didn't come lookin' for a handout," Cain says, turning her attention to a saddle that's hanging over the fence. She braces it with one arm and yanks on the ties with the other, satisfying herself that they're sound. One of the ranch hands is hanging over the fence nearby; she drops off and takes the reins of Cain's horse, soothing it with one hand and watching Kara with an eagle eye.

"No, ma'am."

"I may have the reputation for hiring women when no one else will, but I only take the best." Cain nods at the saddle. "What's that nickname of yours?"

"Starbuck, ma'am."

"Starbuck." Cain says it like it's a joke. "What d'you think of that, Shaw?"

"Worth a shot," says the short woman holding the horse as she undoes the girths. Kara bristles.

"Yes, ma'am, _Star_ buck," she says. "Because I outrode, outroped, outshot, and outdrank the men, ma'am."

"Well then," Cain says, finally looking Kara in the eye. Her dark eyes glint with humor. "Let's see what you and that hoss can do."

Kara reaches for her reins. Viper's trained up right, been standing docile as a stone next to her, ground-tied, but when she flips the reins over his neck and swings up, he's wide awake and snorting like he can make steam come out his nose if he tries hard enough.

"Cut out that steer with the crooked patch around his near eye," Cain says, swinging open the gate to the pasture as Shaw looks on. Kara puts her heels to Viper and starts counting in her head. It's a big herd, but it takes her less than three minutes to have the right steer bawling by the fence.

"Can you rope a calf?" Cain asks, squinting up at Kara.

Kara hooks her thumb into her belt. "This buckle says I can do it faster than anybody in Montana."

"Can you ride all day? Get up on an hour's sleep and take the herd through a storm? Splint your broken arm, grit your teeth, and get on with it? Eat cold beans from a can in the rain?"

"Work well with others," Shaw cuts in.

"Ma'am, I've been on the range all my life one way or the other," Kara says, leveling a cool stare at Cain. "I ride hard. I don't quit. There's not a damn thing you can throw at me that'll scare me off, and if I latch on, you'll have to shoot me before I let go."

"Good girl," Cain says. "Haul your skinny ass up to the office and sign your papers."

"Just like that?" Kara says, stopped in her tracks. She pats Viper's neck. "I'm working for the Hellraiser?"

"Ain't neither one of us got all day," Cain says. She squints up at Kara. "You'll work hard, you'll get paid a decent wage, and you'll call me ma'am 'til I tell you otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am," Kara says. She swings down off Viper and drops his reins to the ground. He snorts and throws one hip out. Cain eyes him.

"You both come from decent stock. You'll do all right as long as you watch your mouth." Cain looks Kara up and down, slow as Monday morning. "Oh yes, Kara Thrace, your reputation precedes you. Just like mine does, I'm sure. Contrary to popular belief, this ain't some kind of cow-herding lesbian orgy and I'm not hiring you just because you've got tits. From what I see and hear, you're good at what you do. But you'll behave yourself here or be out on your ass. I don't countenance backchat or intolerance. You'll respect your colleagues and you'll worship me. You're welcome to speak your mind, but you'll mind your manners. I like a little backbone in my people, and a good right cross, but you'll take my orders or you can show yourself the road."

"Think I'll show myself the office instead, thanks," Kara says, letting herself smile, pulling a little bow as she backs up the road. It's a short walk up to the main building, which looks to be Cain's house and the business end of things both. She knocks the dust off her boots on the stairs and lets herself in, tipping her hat into her hand.

"Hello?" she calls.

"In here," says a voice from another room, and Kara swings herself around the doorframe to find a couple of women staring into a file folder. One's tall and thin and blonde and tan like a runway model, with shorn-off hair and tits she's trying to hide; the other one's tiny with dark hair and skin like good coffee and much cleaner than anyone oughta be out here. "Hold your horses for a hot minute," says the short one, "this is important."

"Sure, whatever," Kara says, and looks around, slapping her hat against her thigh. It's set up like most ranch houses she's seen - wood paneling everywhere, a few woven rugs, some dusty overstuffed furniture, a giant fireplace, some rustic-ass local art on the walls. Cain's got money, that's for damn sure, to have a place like this, but her decorating scheme ain't showing it.

"Aha!" says the tall one. "Second column - that shouldn't be negative, that should be a credit."

"Of course," says the short one. "God, I hate this new software update."

"Ruins it every time," the tall one agrees.

The short one looks up. "How can we help you?"

"Cain sent me to sign up," Kara says, shifting from foot to foot.

"Ah, a new one. Good to meet you, I'm Dee," says the short one, licking her finger and pulling a sheet of paper out of a file on her desk. "Fill this out. Here's a pen."

"I'm Gene," says the tall one. Her voice is husky. Kara squints at her. Nobody who sees Gene closer than five feet is gonna believe she's a man, but Kara doesn't give a damn if Gene wants to play games. Everybody's got their own reasons for being here. She shoves her hat half-assedly on her head, takes the paperwork from Dee and fills it out: name, date of birth, Social Security number. The address is already filled in. Cain's smart enough to know the people who want to bunk with her got nowhere else to kick off their boots.

"So what's your name, stranger?" Gene asks.

"Kara Thrace." Kara scribbles down the information, leaning on the desk.

" _The_ Kara Thrace?" Dee asks.

"Depends on what you've heard," Kara says, lounging hipshot against one corner of the desk. Dee's pretty enough, and it never hurts to flirt up the person who prints your paycheck.

"Biggest hardass in the state," Gene says, a saucy tilt to her lips. She's pretty too, when it comes to it, even if she's tried to ugly herself up. "Jack of all trades, first prize in everything from roping to branding, rather cut off your balls than deal with your whining."

Kara winks at her. "That one's true."

"Heard you used to work the Adamas' place out east," Dee says. "Heard you had a good thing going."

"Did until his son died out on a ride with me," Kara says, staring levelly at Dee, who stares right back.

"Oh, god," Dee says. "Which one?"

"Zak," Kara said shortly.

"Oh, god," Dee says again, her eyes big and sad like a kicked puppy.

"You knew him?" Kara clenches her fist against the pain that still comes from hearing his name.

"We went to school together for a while, until my family moved over here." Dee frowns down at her desk. "I asked him to the Sadie Hawkins in eighth grade. He was sweet."

"He ain't dancin' now," Kara says. For a time they're all dead quiet. It ain't like losing a friend's uncommon. Losing Zak was different.

"Adama never got over it?" Gene asks.

"I never did," Kara says shortly. "Sort of puts a hitch in your wedding plans, for one thing."

"Awful," Gene says.

"Least he's still got one kid," Kara says, trying for devil-may-care. "Not that Lee's a comfort, what with bitchin' all the time about how bad he wants to leave for the city. 'Course, that'd be funny as hell, because he'd probably get fat with nothin' to do but sit on his citified ass."

"Now that would be a damn shame," Dee says, and her cheeks get all red.

"Still funny, though," Kara says. "No more than his druthers. He may be handsome as all hell, but he knows it. Serve him right." She smacks the paper down on the desk, not pissed, just done.

"I'll, uh, get this set up for you," Dee says. "Payday's every other Friday. It's usually cash."

"Suits me just fine," Kara says. She squashes her hat proper back down on her head and touches the brim. "Later." She nods to both of 'em and sidles on out to the porch to breathe in the air. In her ears, she hears Zak laughing, laughing at her like nobody else has ever been allowed to.

"Yeah, I'm back," she says to the memory of him, the outlines of the familiar hills looking a little different from this angle. She'll never forget the way they set up against the sky, though, not as long as she lives. "I hope you're happy."

\+ + + +

She's come a long way to end up in Eureka, not fifty miles from the Adamas' ranch. Been all over the state of Montana and what feels like half the West - a lot of territory. She still wakes up sometimes feeling the slick of mud under her boot soles, her heart thumping, blood in her mouth from biting her tongue trying to call Zak back. The shame floods her until she has to lace her coffee 'til it's mostly whiskey, remembering how it felt to stand in front of Bill and tell him she'd let his son die. To stand in front of Lee and see the fury and the pain in his eyes, after all they'd been through with their mother before she up and took off and left them with Bill on the ranch.

She knew better. All she wanted in her life was to be free and she went and got herself caught neat as anything by the glint in Zak's eye. All she wanted after his death was to cut loose and fly away, just ride Viper to the ends of the earth. But she couldn't let go. Hell, that ranch was as close a place to home as she's ever been - she ain't the one who fits in anywhere, too much fight and too much flight. But having had a taste of it spoiled her. She can't rest back in the easy circle of Zak's arms. She can't fold herself into that beat-up recliner to watch old detective movies with Bill. She can't argue with Lee until she wants to smack him. But she can ride and she can rope. With the reputation she's got, Helena Cain is about the only one who will take her. She's got to settle somewhere. Viper's got to eat and so does she. She's been running so long that her head's all twisted around; she's got to knock the dust off her boots for a while. For the first time, she wants peace and quiet. So of course, she came to Cain's Flying B, the ranch with the roughest reputation, to find it. She'd laugh at herself, but she can't find it funny.

Kara shakes her head and hauls her bag out of the truck. She ain't ever thought anything through once in her life. She ain't gonna start having second thoughts now. It's time to meet her new crew, Hellraiser Cain's infamous bunch of high-class misfits.

She grabs her duffel and slings it over her shoulder. The bunkhouse is easy to find, and Kara's used to sleeping like sardines - she's been sharing rooms since she left her momma's house at 16 and never looked back. This one looks pretty full - Cain's a hard boss, but with a good rep, so she's likely got a full crew. Well, at least if Kara fucks this up, saying she worked for Hellraiser Cain will earn her a bunk somewhere else. She heaves the duffel onto an empty bed and heads back out to find Viper. Kara Thrace ain't ever fit in anywhere and she ain't likely to start now, but it's a job, and she'll be damned if she ain't gonna give it her finest.

\+ + +

If there's anything that Kara's learned, it's that it pays to spend your last twenty bucks boozing up your new buddies on your first night. Saves plenty a misstep that'll get your nosy ass fired later. Causes plenty a misstep too, but she tries not to think about that. She's cut herself loose from the Adamas and all that history. She's making a new start here at the Flying B, what people call Purgatory Ranch. At least Cain's got a sense of humor.

It ain't all women here, contrary to what people say. The bunkhouse is two rooms and they're stocked up with men and women, people of all sorts looking for a quick buck or a taste of glory. There's spitfire twins named Sharon and Cheryl, but everyone calls them Athena and Boomer, for reasons Kara can figure out. Then again, it ain't as if "Starbuck"'s a piece of logic. All Kara knows is that they can ride a herd like they're sharing one mind. Adopted, they tell her, finishing each other's sentences as they all shovel down their beans and cornbread in the bunkhouse. They think they have another sister somewhere, but it takes time and money to find out, and they lost the inclination. Then there's Felix, who looks like every nerd Kara hated in high school, but who can rope a calf in the middle of a herd from twenty feet away like it's as easy as falling over. He says he calculates the trajectories in his head. Kara just stares at him.

"Three-dollar words, Felix, you're dealin' with a two-bit mind here," she says, because even if she understands, she ain't letting on.

Felix just laughs and introduces her around to the local misfits and tag ends, all good at what they do, but not fit for other places. Louis helps Dee with the accounting and makes moony eyes at Felix. Kara makes some private wagers with herself on that subject, though she's pretty sure she could talk the woman they call Racetrack into it, if Racetrack ever stops playing poker with Skulls. In the other half of the bunkhouse are a bunch of burly guys - Fisk, Garner, Belzen, Taylor, and Thorne - who are Cain's muscle, and a handful of ordinary cowhands with the same fuckin' weird nicknames: Narcho, Redwing, and Fuzzy. Dee has a bunk down here, right above Felix's, but Gene sleeps in the big house.

There's the slip of a thing from the paddock, too - Kendra Shaw, Cain's right hand, they say. She keeps to herself mostly, listening quiet to the rest of them brag and boast and bullshit, playing with a knife. A mechanic called Laird lives in a little shack away from the rest of them and keeps Cain's equipment running. Athena and Boomer tell Kara that he's a living example - one of the few - of why you don't cross Helena Cain.

"She wanted him and he wouldn't do it, so she just took away everything he loved," Boomer says, like they're at some goddamn slumber party and she's got the best gossip.

"She knows everybody," Athena confides in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Dee hides a smile as she deals another hand of five card stud out to Louis and Felix.

"He should have taken her offer," Kendra says unexpectedly. Her eyes are as sharp as her knife.

"Yeah?" Kara asks, slinging her arms over the back of her chair. "You got some inside info, half-pint?"

Kendra glares. Kara's sure she'll suffer for that later. Hell, Kendra only sleeps one bunk down - might be that Kara wakes up with a knife pricking her throat. Fear of dying ain't gonna stop her living, though. And Kendra surprises her by answering.

"Everybody wants to be here," Kendra says. "It was stupid that he didn't. Now he knows how stupid. Cain gets what she wants."

"Good to know," Kara says. "Anything you wanna tell me about Gene?" She tosses Kendra a half-empty fifth of cheap whiskey.

"Nothing to say," Kendra says. "We don't ask about Her personal business if we know what's good for us." She says Her with the capital letter so that Kara can hear it, like Cain's some kind of god. Well, maybe she is. Lotta lost souls banging around these ranches, just lookin' for someone to tell them where to stand. Kara remembers her mother talking about boot camp, about the drill sergeant who put the fear of holy fire into them.

"You can call me God," she says softly.

Kendra narrows her eyes like a snake ready to strike. Kara tenses, but Kendra relaxes and throws her a little smile. "Come out with me tomorrow," she says. "I'll show you the ropes around here."

"Oooh," Boomer says. "Go to the head of the class, Starbuck." Kendra ignores her.

"Turning in," she says. "I'll see you in the morning, Starbuck. If you're man enough."

How Kendra manages to sleep with the rest of them rowdy as hell and up until near enough daylight playing poker is a mystery, but she's no slouch in the saddle, and by the end of the day, Kara knows exactly how much land Cain has and the brand mark of every herd pastured on her land. Sheep in some places, cattle in some others - Cain's ranch is bigger than she knows what to do with, and she's got what seems like half the state's critters under her watching eye, renting out her grazing privileges to every half-assed rancher whose little place she bought out. Kendra seems to know each and every one of 'em, even if she is what Zak would have called too spooky for her own damn good. Kendra stands in her stirrups and puts her nose into the wind and then they're off to the next herd. Even on all these acres, she finds them. Ain't hard to see why she's the teacher's pet. She's good with that knife, too; when they find a sheep with a broke leg and no chance in hell, Kendra has its throat cut before it can make a sound.

"Weak," she says. Her hair falls in her face like a forelock. She looks like some wild thing. "Drags down the herd."

"This ain't my first day on the playground," Kara drawls.

"Cain's a blade," Kendra says, leaning over the carcass, shoving it around so the blood'll drain. Her hands are quick; she's done this before. She looks up at Kara. "Folk say she's cruel, but that ain't it - she's hard but she cuts clean. She knows where she's going. She cuts through the bullshit. If she takes down the weak, they would have fallen anyway. People see mean where there's only merciless." She wrangles the carcass around some more. "You got to want to be like her, or you got to get out. She'll open your belly and eat your guts if you cross her."

"Good to know," Kara says. "So whose guts did she eat to ransom Gene, huh? Because she ain't foolin' no one tryin' to hide them things. There's history there sure as shit."

Kendra stands up and heaves the sheep over the back of her saddle, tying it fast. Her horse snorts but doesn't shy. Kendra dusts off her hands and stabs Kara with her eyes.

"Cain has her ways and her reasons. She's the captain of this operation and I don't see fit to questions that. If she takes you in, she'll leave you something stronger than she found you. So what'll it be, Starbuck? Get through or get out?"

Kara sets her jaw. "Anyone'll tell you Kara Thrace don't quit 'til the thing is through. I didn't come up here aiming to slink home with my tail between my legs."

"Good," Kendra says, hitching herself up on her horse. "Remember it."

\+ + + +

It's Friday night, payday night, and Kara's drunk, blasted on piss beer and the loud thump of the jukebox. Dee's trying to teach her how to line dance - she's looking too goddamn cute for her own good with her hair up in one of those little bouncy ponytails Kara's never been able to manage and her shirt unbuttoned just right. She's perfect at it and Kara's tripping over her own boots trying to do a damn grapevine, but they're both drunk enough that it's a hell of a lot of fun. Athena and Boomer are crowing at them from the table, chasing tequila shots with cusses and beer while Felix tries to teach Louis to drink whiskey without coughing. Kendra didn't come - she had dinner at the big house, but as they left, they saw her moseying back to the empty bunkhouse to do whatever it is she gets up to on her own.

"Left, right, kick, tap, spin," Dee chants, but Kara sets her heel in a groove in the floor and goes over, about to bust her ass when instead she lands in a pair of big strong arms.

"Whoa there," says a deep voice that sounds just like a promise. "It ain't supposed to be break dancing, least as far as I know. Maybe our girl here's teaching you a new move she picked up in college, but I ain't sure it oughta to look like that."

"Why don't you show me _your_ moves?" Kara challenges, heaving herself back onto her feet and shaking him off. He doesn't shake so easy - he's still got a hand on her waist when she turns to face him. The fact that she likes it there pisses her off.

"You name the time and place, darlin'," he says with a grin like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Listen, Slick, I don't know what kind of luck you think you got, but it ain't happening," she snaps, but her insides are melting and her lips are tingling, and it ain't only the beer making her head spin.

"Found a four-leaf clover the other day," he offers, and there's that grin again.

"What happened, you fall off?" she says, leaning back in his grasp.

"Maybe sometimes I just like to roll in the grass," he says. "Name's Anders. Sam. Pleased to meet ya."

"Kara, quit flirting and come dance," Dee half-pouts, half-commands, and Sam lets go.

"I'm not one to detain a lady," he teases, and signals the bartender. "There's a drink for you when you're done struttin' your stuff out there."

"What makes you think I'd drink with a pushy bastard like you, Anders?" Kara asks, both hands on her hips.

"It's free and easy, just like me," he says, and winks again, and she turns away and stalks back to the floor, letting Dee show her where she went wrong in the kick-heel-tap-spin part. She can feel Anders' eyes on her. He's watching her like a hawk. Well, she ain't no kind of mouse, and he better know it, but he'll do, long and lean, manners in one pocket and raunch in the other. He'll do.

The song twangs out and another one comes on, with a whole new set of steps to twist Kara's mind around, and then another, and then Dee goes to the bar for refreshments and comes back dragging Anders, shoving him onto the floor and putting him through his paces. He ends up as sweaty and red as the rest of them, laughing at Dee, his knuckles brushing Kara's thigh like it's an accident, except for the way he looks away on purpose, and Kara's had enough booze and boot-scootin' boogieing to read the back of his neck like some poem or at least a number scrawled across her palm.

She fucks him in the bathroom before the end of the night, one hand grabbing his back so hard she leaves bruises and one arm flung around the condom machine, holding on tight.

"Can I call you?" he asks as she splashes water on her face.

"You can call," she says, dragging her sleeve over her eyes. "Can't say as whether I'll answer."

"You're a piece of work, Kara Thrace," he says.

She looks him over: rumpled, fuck-flushed, shirt unbuttoned halfway down that broad chest and one hipbone visible above the jeans he's dragging back on. "You're not bad yourself. See you around, Anders."

"Kara! Where have you been?" Dee asks, eyes all bright and shiny, catching Kara by the arm as she saunters out of the bathroom. Kara's pretty sure Dee catches a nice glimpse of Sam as the door swings closed, but she just raises one eyebrow.

"I think I like it here," Kara says. She treats Dee to a big old grin.

"Good!" Dee says. She's so tiny and sparkly and clean, like some fairy princess, everything Kara never was. "I hope you stay." Odd thing is she seems to mean it, and not just because they've been drunk and wore out together all night.

"Plannin' on it," Kara says. Surprising to think she's making a friend.

Dee giggles. "Come on. Nobody can hardly walk anymore - time to get home before they have to haul us out in a trailer. Racetrack's bringing the truck in." She pulls at Kara's rolled-up sleeve and Kara lets herself be dragged along.

"Dee!" A curly-haired boy who looks like he knows what a razor looks like but ain't had any occasion to get better acquainted chases after them, gawky as a colt. "I just...I just wanted to say...."

Dee stands on her tippy-toes, curls her free hand around the back of his head, and pulls him into a kiss all in one smooth motion. Kara looks on in admiration. The boy looks dazes as all hell when Dee lets him go.

"I'll call you next time I'm in town, Billy," she says, devil-may-care, and waves at him. "Come on, Starbuck, you have to help me with the others."

Kara, amused as hell, heaves Boomer over her shoulder as Athena stumbles along. Felix and Louis are snoring at the table: round two, and good thing she's had practice hauling calves and steers, because those bastards are heavy. "Looks like you did pretty well for yourself there, Dee."

Dee sparkles at her. "What, with Billy? He's just the mayor's assistant from Whitefish. Some dude from out east, just happened to show up when Ms. Roslin needed somebody to file papers and give quotes to the press."

"Did you say Roslin?" Kara asks, pushing Boomer into the big double cab of the truck and setting her up against the side.

"Yeah, why?" Dee asks, giving Athena a boost.

"Laura Roslin?"

"I think that's her name," Dee says. Her face twists up into a question mark. "Why do you ask?"

"Used to know her," Kara grins.

\+ + + +

Laura Roslin, mayor of the bustlin' metropolis of Whitefish. Kara smirks to herself, bundled into her bunk. Oh, yes, she remembers Laura Roslin, back when Laura was principal of Whitefish High School where the Adamas and, so it seems, Dee spent all their days pent up in. Meanwhile, Kara'd been in and out of military base schools, following Momma from base to base, that after a while she'd been chafed raw with new schools and new teachers and the same old brats like her, and she'd just up and taken the test to get her damn GED. Momma had almost been proud. Almost. Then they'd had the fight and Kara had left before either of them took a swing, and she'd found a job in the diner in Whitefish, Montana. Turned out Laura Roslin came in most days for coffee and a piece of pie, and damned if she didn't have an eye for who the law said belonged to her.

"How old are you?" she had asked the second day Kara had come along to serve her.

"Nineteen, ma'am," Kara said, lying through her teeth.

Laura laughed right in her face. "You're seventeen if you're a day, child."

"Eighteen in three months," Kara said, sullenly.

"You ought to be in school."

"I have my GED," Kara snapped.

"Done with learning, are you?" Laura asked. "Want to be serving coffee for the rest of your life?" It was the first time in a long time a teacher had really looked at Kara and she squirmed under Laura's eyes as they stripped her like a spring gale. "Where are you going to college? I imagine the ROTC program would suit you fine - there's plenty of steel in your spine."

"Not me," Kara said. "I ain't goin' to college. And I sure as hell ain't goin' to the army - I seen enough of that life."

"Suit yourself," Laura said.

"What?" Kara asked, feet still braced for a ruckus.

"It's fine with me if you waste the brain you've obviously got in that pretty little head," Laura said. "You can bring me my coffee for the next thirty years. That's fine with me. I like you. You haven't spilled it on me yet."

"Ain't gonna be here thirty years," Kara sulked. "Ain't gonna be here thirty days if I have my way."

"Indeed? And what is it you do, Kara?"

"I ride," Kara says. "Only thing Momma ever did for me. I ride and I rope and I swear and I spit and there's not a bastard on the range I can't outlast."

"Vital life skills," Laura said, and sipped at her coffee like she was too fancy to be drinking anything that came in a cup that left a ring of old grease on the table. "Come back and talk to me later."

Kara didn't believe the woman had any good in mind, 'cept maybe in her own mind, but she tipped plenty. Day after day she brought the same cup of coffee and slice of pie along; day after day Laura gave her that once-over. One day Kara walked up and there was a little box on the table.

"Can you move this shit so I can put down your order?" she said, rough and rude, but Laura had one of them Looks again, and Kara was primed to take off. Still, she moved the thing without any fuss.

"Go on, open it," Laura said when Kara had put down her coffee and pie, banana cream today.

"Whatfor?" Kara says.

"Child, sit down a moment," Laura said. Her teacher voice had Kara's ass in the chair before she could protest. Hell, she'd always got a little hot for authority when them in charge knew what they were doing. "Trust in the fact that somebody might want to give you a gift sometime. No strings attached."

"My birthday was last week," Kara said, catching the box as Laura pushed it toward her.

"You didn't tell me what day it was," Laura said. She cupped her hands under her chin, all made of patience and iron, looking pleased with herself. "Go on then."

Kara tugged at the ribbon and opened the lid. She dug out a pair of spurs and a book. "Pre-read, huh? I feel real special, ma'am."

"Elizabeth Bishop only gets better the more you read her," Laura said. Her smirk said she knew a lot more than Kara did. "Those are rather excellent by now. Look inside."

Kara opens it up. There's a piece of paper inside. She smooths it out on the table, mindful of the coffee splatters. "A scholarship to the community college."

"It won't expire," Laura said. "I talked to the dean. She says there'll be a spot open for you if you ever want one."

"I'm not gonna, but thanks," Kara said.

"People change," Laura said. "Come talk to me sometime. Somewhere that isn't here. Now go away and let me eat this pie in peace."

Kara had put it off a few weeks, waiting to see if it was just some mad hair of Laura's, but after a while, she'd given in. She had dinner at Laura's house, spaghetti and the kind of garlic bread you get at the store, and by the time they were done, Kara knew she was gonna fuck Laura. Not that night, but some night. She even helped Laura clear up and managed to push back the memories of cleaning house for Momma.

"I'll see you next week," Laura said as she showed Kara the door.

"See ya," Kara echoed.

The next week, she brought a bottle of wine. Laura narrowed her eyes but let Kara have a glass too. She read one of the poems out loud from the book she'd given to Kara. Kara almost liked a poem. She was warming up, anyhow.

Six weeks later she had her hand in Laura's blouse.

"This shouldn't happen," Laura panted. "I'm taking advantage of your youth."

"Looks to be the other way around," Kara said. "You know I'm legal, if that's the issue. Otherwise I can pack up and take my ass home. But I think you want this."

"Of course I do," Laura said. "But I don't want to exploit you."

"What makes you think any of this is your idea?" Kara drawled. "See, I don't need any old education - I got those leadership qualities and critical thinking skills. So you gonna button up your pretty blouse, or are you gonna read me another poem while I take all your clothes off?"

"Well," Laura said. "I suppose that sounds like a good schedule for the evening."

"Good," Kara said. "Don't make me beg. I ain't good at askin' nice."

They fucked all night long, every way Kara could think of, and a few she'd never even imagined.

"Lord yes," Laura gasped when they were finally too tuckered to keep it up. She buried her pretty red head in the pillows and let her legs hook over Kara. "Just another reminder that you should always be open to learning opportunities."

"What exactly were you learnin' tonight?" Kara said. "Because you seemed pretty expert to me."

"There's something to that younger woman thing," Laura said. "You're certainly...enthusiastic."

"I can go all night," Kara bragged. "And." She clambered out of bed to grab the paper bag from the kitchen, came back, and waved it in front of Laura's face. "I brought the day-old pastries from the diner."

"Planning ahead," Laura said approvingly.

"You bet yer boots," Kara said, extra country just for fun, and Laura laughed.

"Come back to bed, you pretty young thing," Laura said, patting the place next to her sprawled-out naked self.

Kara, remembering, smiles through the haze of booze. That was a long time ago now, or feels like it anyway, half a life at least: before she quit the café, before she got hired at the Adamas' Rusty Bucket Ranch, before she introduced Laura to Bill Adama half by accident and they hit it off so right or so wrong that the whole county could probably see the fireworks. By then she was fucking Zak anyway, so it didn't half matter. The thought of Zak hurts less when she's drunk, but it still ain't pleasant, like biting down on a bad tooth, so she just wrassles herself deeper into the covers and wills herself to sleep. It's a skill she learned early, had to to deal with Momma's rages and hours, and one she's still grateful for. In the bunk beneath her, Felix is snoring. Yeah, it's a decent life here. She'll sleep deep.

\+ + + +

Kara rides out with Kendra for the next two weeks, learning the land. Kendra knows 'most everything about the place, it seems like. As they ride, she grills Kara on every herd pastured on the land - Cain plays host to a motley mix of critters from the people in town who don't have enough space and to some rich city folk who want to play cowboy every once in a while. She eases off a little when Kara can rattle back the names and tell her whose animals are in which pasture and how far the land extends.

"So there," Kara says, pushing her feet down hard in the stirrups to stretch her legs. "I ain't half as dumb as I look."

"You could have fooled me, blondie," Kendra says, but there ain't any malice in it.

"Fuck you," Kara says amiably. "You comin' into town with us tonight? It bein' payday and all."

"Maybe," Kendra says in that accent Kara don't quite place.

"You never do," Kara says, picking a burr out of Viper's mane as they mosey on through the pasture closest to the barn. "What do you get up to when we're gone?"

"None of your damn business," Kendra says.

"Yeah, okay," Kara says. "Dinner at the big house again?"

"Yeah," Kendra says.

"Rumor is..." Kara starts.

"Not that way," Kendra cuts in. "It ain't anything but dinner. Gene's a good cook. Maybe if you're lucky someday you'll get invited."

"Don't know if that's my style," Kara says. "I only like being wined and dined when I'm gonna get laid afterwards."

Kendra snorts. "You would."

"Why do you think we all go into town?" Kara teases her.

"Don't get knocked up," Kendra says, all distant like she never had an urge in her life. "I got no use for a hand who can't ride out."

"Don't you worry about that," Kara says, slapping Viper on the neck as she dismounts. "I'll be careful."

They all pile into the trucks after dinner, all but Kendra, and drive the miles into town. Skulls is the DD tonight, so he only has one beer while Racetrack taunts him by sticking shots of whiskey in her cleavage. Felix drinks them, though, and then plants one on Hoshi in a dark corner when he thinks nobody can see, so nobody gets into a fight. Sam's there, leaning over the bar like he owns it. "My favorite bronc," he says when he sees Kara.

"My most convenient fuck," she counters, sliding onto a stool next to him and hauling him down by his hair so she can kiss him.

"I'll take it," he says. His voice and his eyes heat her up like somebody flicked on a lighter.

"I'm not in the mood for the Electric Slide," she says. "You got any booze back at your place? You even got a place?"

"Yeah, I've got a place," he says, throwing a ten down on the bar. "And plenty of beer, don't even worry."

"What do you even do?" she asks when they're settled in his couch, some shitty program on tv that she don't plan to watch anyway.

"I work down at the feed store," he says. "Slingin' grain, fixin' tack, sellin' hats. Broke my neck riding bulls and that was it for my rodeo days."

"Quit while you're ahead," Kara says. "You're smarter than some."

"I was gonna be an engineer," Sam says.

"You're shitting me," Kara tells him. "That is a heap of Grade-A bullshit."

"Nope." Sam shakes his head. "Aced physics in high school through some miracle of God. Somehow I just understood it without even tryin'. Got talked up by the engineering department at the university. They were gonna give me more money than I'd dreamed of."

"What happened?" Kara's interested despite herself. She don't really wanna get to know this guy, but hell, he fucks pretty good. She might as well listen to him for a spell before she takes what she wants.

"Got a good offer from somebody who needed a rider," he says. "Near as much money and a hell of a lot more women and drinkin' for a lot less work. I don't know what eighteen year old would turn that down. I had my brains between my legs."

"Clear enough you still do," Kara says, taking a long swig. "You came right for me."

"Time to return the favor," Sam says, and is on his knees in front of her tugging off her jeans before she can say anything. She comes for him all right, early and often, and every time he wakes up in the night, he does it again.

He makes her pancakes in the morning. She wants to bolt out the door, but that's hard when you're pinned to the counter by a sweet-talking man wielding a spatula.

"Leverage," he tells her when she tries to push him away. "You won't budge me."

"You and your goddamn science," she says, and he laughs.

"Easy there, Starbuck. It won't hurt you to get some coffee and a few hotcakes under your belt before you head out. It ain't hardly light. Hellraiser won't miss you yet, and the others won't tattle."

"Why are you doing this?" she demands.

He shrugs. "Some things in life oughta be easy. Plus, if you know I'll feed you, maybe you'll stray back this way."

"Maybe I will," she says, squeezing his ass. He jumps and she shoves past him. "How's that for fucking leverage?"

"You're always one up on me," he says admiringly.

"Yeah, well, get used to it," she says, flinging herself into a chair. "Hurry up with those cakes. I ain't got all day. And put some bacon on."

"Yes'm," he says.

He'll do.

\+ + + +

Kara's been there three weeks when Hellraiser Cain beckons her over. She leans low over her saddle horn and motions Kara closer.

"You're gonna ride with me today. Got an overnight, bringing in some sheep that pasture on my land. They ain't my critters, but you'll treat 'em like they were God's own chosen ones, you hear me?"

"I hear you, sir," Kara says.

Cain just nods and wheels Pegasus away. Kara slides off Viper and heads to the bunkhouse for her saddle bags and her rucksack. She learned quick not to take much: there's just a little tent and her bedroll and a couple of cans of beans and soup and a spoon and a pot and a cup and a packet of coffee and some toilet paper and a couple of canteens. She says a quick thanks to Kendra under her breath for reminding her the last few weeks what she really needs. 'Course, what's in the bags represents pretty much all she's got in the world. Working the Adamas' place got her enough money to buy her old POS truck, which she loves almost as much as she loves Viper, a cheap-ass trailer to haul him around in, and her gear. It's all she has in the world and all she needs. Bill Adama was damn generous - she's pretty sure there's a bank account in town with her name on it with all the money she couldn't take from him, but she's got enough baggage to drag around this world. She drinks her paycheck away on purpose. Living a whisker from the edge is all she knows, but she's got the gear that'll get her through.

Cain's waiting for her when she gets back, equipped with her own rucksack. She nods with what Kara hopes is approval. "Let's ride, Starbuck."

Cain ain't kidding when she says it'll be an overnight ride. It takes them the best part of five hours in the saddle to get up to the pasture, and that ain't counting the half hour break to eat the sandwiches Cain hauls out and take a piss. It's all uphill, too, way up the side of a mountain.

"God's own country," Cain says when they finally hit the right land, standing up in her stirrups. "I'll tell it true, Starbuck, I knew the first time I saw these hills that this was where I was meant to be. Not to get all poetical. This is my land. It's in my bones."

"I know what you're saying," Kara says. She's felt it too: the rush of the wind past her face at a canter, the sweetness of coming home dusty and beaten all to hell but with the whole herd tramping in ahead of you, the triumph of wrassling a critter to the ground. She ain't ever gonna forget the moment she first swung up on a pony, like she was finding her own legs for the first time. She feels more real in the saddle than she does on the ground. Fearless. Alive. On a horse she's not a disappointment and a fuck-up, unlike the goddamn rest of life.

"Enough chitter-chatter," Cain says. "Let's get to business." She spurs Pegasus on with a little cry and Kara follows. It takes a good while to round up the sheep - they haven't got dogs and the dumb animals can't seem to make sense of the good directions the horses are turning them in, but eventually they're all in a bunch, baaing and maaaing at each other in their stupid sheep voices. Cain pulls some stakes and ropes out of her bag and pegs out a rough fence - nothing that would keep anything clever in, but sheep ain't known for brains, 'cept maybe in places where those brains are good eating.

"Might as well settle down," Cain says. "We won't make it back tonight. Set up the tent. I'll kindle a fire." She pulls out a little ax. "When you're done with the tent, find us some water. There's little creeks all over this heap."

Kara does as she's told. It ain't her favorite way of doing things, but Cain's got a way about her, and there's fire in those eyes. That alone would tell Kara to be biddable, even without the horror stories. She pitches the tent, just barely big enough for two, tosses her bedroll down, and hauls back a pan of water. If she boils the cans in it, they'll be hot and she'll have drinking water. Cain's back with a healthy cord of wood in a couple of minutes and sets to building up the fire as Kara tends to the horses.

They eat beans and beef stew and mushy peas out of cans, passing them back and forth. Cain's brought a can of apple pie filling and a little loaf of bread, the kind with the crust that crunches. "I like my comforts," she says. Kara's just grateful for it. It's a long sight nicer than a lot of meals her and Zak ate, or her and Lee ate, or her and whoever else ate way out yonder. The bread soaks up the gravy from the beans just right, and the hot apples warm her through. They kick back around the fire. Kara shrugs her shoulders to get the knots out and leans back against some of the extra wood that her saddle's propped over. It may be high summer, but it's cool up here on the mountain. The fire's a welcome heat, and the blanket might smell like Viper, but hell, so does she. She lets herself think back over the day as the heat settles into her bones.

"Came from the East," Cain says out of nowhere. They're drinking whiskey out of tin cups and watching the fire burn down to embers.

"You?" Kara's stunned.

Cain chuckles, her laugh as rough as the drink. "Ivy League-educated. Got a degree in political science. My folks were richer than Croesus. I was gonna be a lawyer, have a dozen rooms I didn't use and three cars I was too busy to drive. Hated the fuckers, though. Dropped out of law school, used my trust money to buy this place, and never looked back. Learned to speak cowboy and all."

"Huh," Kara says. "Guess there's value in education after all." She thinks of Laura and smirks. "Though not the kind you look for."

"Sure as hell true," Cain says. "Plenty of worth right where you're not looking for it." She drains her cup and turns it over on a rock that Kara's put by the fire. "So are we gonna fuck? Because I'm turning in."

"Am I gonna wake up with that knife of Kendra's at my throat if we do?" Kara asks.

"Naw," Cain says. "Kendra's no slouch. She'll have known."

"And Gene?" Kara asks.

Cain clenches her jaw. "Don't see how it's any of your business, but Gene and I have our own understanding."

"I've been in the middle before," Kara says.

Cain winks. "I'm sure you have."

"It ain't as much fun as it sounds," Kara says. "I'll fuck you six ways from Sunday, ma'am, but not if it's gonna lose me my bunk. I need this place. Now I'll wager you don't need me, but you can use me one way or the other, and that's just fine as long as I keep drawing wages and havin' something to do all day. I mean, I'd fuck you in a hot second if you weren't payin' my way, but it gets tricky when you're the one signing the checks. I ain't whorin'. I don't want anything extra. I just want to know this ain't one of them fuck 'em and fire 'em places."

"I take care of my people," Cain scowls. "You don't think I initiate all my cowhands this way?"

Kara considers. "I don't think Louis would stand for it," she says. "And Felix maybe half the time. But bein' the best don't always do me any favors."

"Something I've known my whole life," Cain says. "But hell, you ain't even broke in yet. You're not going anywhere until we're both good and ready to let you go. You hear me?"

"I hear you loud and clear," Kara says.

"I reward the ones who stand by me," Cain tells her. "I eliminate the ones who don't. Simple. Got nothin' to do with money. I won't pay you any less if you don't fuck me and I won't pay you any more if you do. I'll be honest - folk in town think I fuck everybody, but I don't. I like the rumors, though. I like keepin' the fear of God in them. Hellraiser Cain, she'll bite off your dick and feed it to you. But I like you, and you seem like a girl who knows how to stay warm on a cold night, so I'm offerin' you the chance, take it or leave it. It ain't an offer I make to everybody, no matter what the rumor says. In fact, you're the first in a while who's suited me that way. If you say no, we'll never discuss it again. Otherwise, I think it's about time you took those clothes off."

"Believe it," Kara says. "Gonna go rinse off, though I don't fancy that creek for washing in."

Cain's smile is full of teeth. She tosses Kara a scrap of cloth - a washcloth, Kara realizes. "Told you I was civilized." She unbuttons her shirt.

They wash each other down there by the fire, using the warm water left from the boiling. Cain's got good hands, rough and firm, and before she knows it, Kara's up to her eyebrows in Cain's cunt with those knowing fingers inside her, making more ruckus than any two people have a right to, but sweet lord, it's good.

"Good goddamn thing I can call 'em," Cain says after, dragging some clothes back on and easing herself into her bedroll. "Had you pegged for a good fuck the moment I saw you. Bet you've made a lot of women very happy."

"Shit, ma'am," Kara says, "I'm no dyke. I just ain't too discernin'. I see what I want and I get it. Easy as pie."

"Well, I'm glad you like pie," Cain smirks. "Now turn in. Tomorrow won't be any shorter."

"What, we're gonna stop halfway down for some jerky and a quickie?" Kara teases.

"You learn fast," Cain says, and turns over. "And don't think I'm trying to cuddle - it gets cold fast up here."

"That's never a worry," Kara says, and she's out like a light.

They bring the herd down the next morning after strong coffee and another can of beans. They do stop partway down for a little break and Kara has Cain, or Hell as she's starting to call her in her head, flat on her back with Kara's fingers in her cunt before Cain can hardly sit down. She returns the favor so well that Kara's almost too weak-kneed to get back in the saddle. But they ride in mid-afternoon, just right at drinkin' time, with the knot of stupid sheep ahead of them. Cain delivers them to their owner, tallies up each woolly head, and sends them all on their way.

"Good work, Starbuck," she says. "We only lost two. Think I'll call up Zarek - I heard he's looking to buy a hundred head or so and needs somewhere to put them."

"Ma'am, you know where to find me," Kara says, and touches the brim of her hat. Cain gives her a nod. Kara shifts in the saddle, a little sore where Cain almost bruised her during that good rough fuck.

"Catch an hour or two of rest and I'll see you when Athena and Boomer bring that herd in this evening," Cain says. "Give that pony of yours some grain. I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

"Yes ma'am," Kara says.

"Call me Hell," Cain says, not even lookin' at her, already onto the next thing.

"Will do," Kara says, holding down that knowing smirk that wants to appear, and heads to the barn with Viper. It's a good big barn, with stalls almost bigger than some of the apartments she's had. Must be that East Coast thing of Cain's, that she needs a fancy stable here. "Call me Hell" - fuck she will, at least not in front of the others. So she's in. Easiest goddamn thing she's ever done. Viper snorts as she heaves his saddle off and works the bit out of his mouth. She leans against him, rubbing his neck with one hand.

"Looks like we made it, buddy." She slaps him on the flank. "Least 'til they run us out of town."

He just looks at her and snorts. "Yeah, yeah," she says, and pitches a measure of grain into his bucket. "Fight 'em 'til we can't, I know."

\+ + + +

She don't go out with Hell every day. Hell don't always get to the range, for one, but more than that, she don't play favorites that way. "I have to test all my people," she tells Kara one afternoon. They're bare-ass naked in the grain room of the barn, and Kara's got Hell backed up against the wall.

"As long as you're not fuckin' all of 'em," Kara says, squeezing Hell's tit. "Actually, I don't give a damn if you are, as long as you're fuckin' me."

"I haven't got the patience," Hell tells her. "I only fuck the ones who don't need training up."

"Good to know I'm natural-born to do something," Kara says. She flicks Hell's nipple to make her hiss.

"You don't talk about this," Hell says, and it ain't a question.

"I ain't stupid," Kara says.

"I'm allowed a certain amount of liberty because of my money," Hell says bluntly. "Folks around here need me, or at least they need my land and my business. But you know how queers get treated."

"Yeah, only we're women, so it's hot," Kara says, flippant as hell.

"The allure wears off fast," Hell tells her.

"Zat why Gene wears a tie to work, or do you just like it?" Kara asks.

"You really don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?" Hell asks her.

"Never been a strength," Kara admits. "But I know how to use it."

"You do at that," Hell says, pushing Kara's head down to her thighs. "Now get to it."

Kara does, with a good will: she loves the way Hell tastes, and the way Hell keeps real quiet even toward the end. Getting a yelp out of her is like winning the belt buckle at roping, a real prize.

"Come to dinner," Hell says when she's dressed again.

"What's that?" Kara asks, shaking out her boots.

"It's a meal that we eat in the evenings," Hell says, frosty. "We sit at the table. We use silverware and napkins. I know that's an unfamiliar concept."

"Shit, I can't bring my shovel?" Kara cracks.

"No, and you'd better shower first," Hell says, looking her up and down.

"Shucks," Kara drawls. "For y'all, I might even comb my hair."

Hell smiles, sudden like lightning and almost as dangerous. "Have to say I'm enjoying these games we play. I'm fairly fond of you after all."

"Yeah, this ain't half bad," Kara says. "But don't tell anybody - you'll ruin my devil-may-care image."

Hell kisses her roughly, shoving her hand down Kara's half-zipped jeans to squeeze her ass. "See at dinner."

"Kendra coming?" Kara calls after her.

"She took a few days off, left town," Hell says over her shoulder. "Surprised you didn't notice. She'll be back tomorrow. Nobody there tonight but us chickens, so they say."

"Well that soothes my restless spirit," Kara grumbles under her breath, dragging her jeans up proper. "Alone with the boss and her trouser-wearin' lady. Can't imagine how I'll fuck this one up."

She better shower good, clean her nails and comb her hair. Wouldn't want to show herself up mussed and sweaty. Momma taught her better than that, at least.

\+ + + +

They're halfway through dinner - something really good and fancy with some foreign name Kara can't remember and asparagus soaked in garlic butter - when Kara says, casual as can be, "So I guess you wear the pants in the relationship, huh, Gene? Being as you're so manly and all."

"Oh," says Gene. "I see." She puts down her fork very carefully.

"I just wondered why it is you don't let those things free," Kara pushes. "Don't it hurt to wrap 'em up so tight?"

Hell's eyes are like razors slicing through the air between them. If Kara were any closer, she'd probably be bleeding.

"I don't mind," says Gene, head held proud on that neck like a swan's. "I know you think I'm foolish, that I'm not fooling anyone. But I feel safer this way. I was attacked. It was years ago. Someone saw me in the street with my family, thought I looked...pretty. Thought we looked like easy marks."

She takes a breath, gathering herself. "He and his buddy stabbed my father for his watch and sliced my mother's face open when she tried to give them her jewelry. One of them broke my little sister's arm when she tried to get away. He was ripping my clothes when Helena showed up, he'd already slashed me across the ribs. If she hadn't come looking for me, I don't know what would have happened to us. We were supposed to meet and I was late, obviously, and she came around that corner with her phone in one hand and her knife in the other and they ran. But there she was, like an avenging angel. She called an ambulance and she took us to the hospital. My father bled out on the way there. My mother's scar is permanent. My sister still has nightmares. She calls me sometimes in the middle of the night from California - they moved all the way across the country to get away from the memories, but she's still haunted."

"And I brought you here," Hell says, low and easy like she's soothing a lost animal. Gene smiles at her, just a flicker of light.

"I didn't want to be pretty anymore," she says. "So yes, I wear men's clothing, and I call myself Gene instead of Gina when most people are around, and I hope that people don't look too closely, but I have a reason. People are less likely to confront a man, even a slender man. I stay mostly out of sight. It works." Her neck looks like it's braced with steel now, still impossibly graceful, still more beautiful trying not to be than Kara can ever muster trying. It ain't quite fair, but neither's life. Kara guesses Gene knows that about as well as anyone. Looking into each other's eyes, she sees that she and Gene have more in common than she ever would have guessed.

"I am the world champion asshole," Kara says, when the silence gets too much.

"You didn't know," says Gene, more gracious than Kara could probably ever muster.

"High time you stopped picking at it, though," Hell says.

"Helena, she couldn't have known," Gene says. "I don't mind telling her."

"More fire than sense," Hell adds, still glaring at Kara.

"Helena, please," Gene says. "I asked you to ask her to dinner for a reason. Now she knows. I presume she knows better than to spread it around."

"Shit, I ain't one to give away other people's business," Kara says. "I'll worry a question to death, but I don't go blabbing secrets." Aside from that, she's pretty sure that Kendra would run her through, but she ain't gonna blab that either.

"See there?" Gene says, and she's got a smile as pretty as a sunrise. Kara's sure there's steel behind it, though. "I knew it would all turn out for the best."

"You're right most times," Hell says, and she cups her hand over Gene's. They look at each other all doe-eyed, which ain't something Kara ever imagined Hell doing, but it's clear they're in love. She's felt it herself before, that pang when your eyes meet that goes through your bones. It nearly killed her.

Hell and Gene seem strong enough to weather it, though. Kara's sure that Hell has her hand on Gene's knee as they finish this course, and all through the soup that follows it - Gene apologizes for serving them backwards, but Kara wouldn't have known - and through the bitter, delicious chocolate thing that's for dessert. Afterwards, they all sit around in the living room on a couch deep enough to get lost in, sipping brandy. There's an old movie on tv, but none of them are really watching. Kara's got her eye on Hell and Gene, who only have eyes for each other. They murmur to each other, too quiet for Kara to hear, and suddenly Gene laughs. It sounds like bells.

"Well," Gene says. "I believe it's time to slip into something more comfortable." She swings her feet off the couch. "Coming, ladies?"

"Of course," Hell says. "If you're up to it, Kara."

"I never turn down a challenge," Kara says, setting her glass carefully on a coaster. The whole night's been foreplay. Well, it felt like it. She's edgy, ripe for a good rough fuck. She follows them upstairs to the bedroom. Hell's bed is huge. When Kara sits on the edge of it, it feels like the beds in the fanciest hotel she ever stayed in, only better. Gene disappears into the bathroom. Hell peels off her own clothes and then starts on Kara's.

"You're okay with this?" Kara asks, pinned down, stripped to her panties.

"Her idea," Hell says. Her dark hair brushes Kara's face, and she makes an impatient noise and sits up, straddling Kara, to tie it back. "Gene's the boss in the bedroom and I'll thank you to remember it."

"The day I see you take orders..." Kara starts, but Hell cuts her off.

"That's today." She turns and looks over her shoulder as a door creaks. "There you are."

Kara cranes her neck as Hell climbs off her. Gene's naked, fucking gorgeous with that long lean body Kara will never have, and she's wearing a strap on. The harness sits around her hips just right and though Kara's never really been into this stuff, seeing the dildo bobbing between Gene's legs has her wet clean through her panties. Gene's taken off her bindings and her tits are incredible, like porn-star quality. There's a big scar visible from under the left one down nearly to her hip. Somehow it only makes her hotter, more dangerous. Kara's mouth is dry, like all the moisture in her trickled right down to her cunt in anticipation.

"It's not about being a man," Gene says, coming closer. "It's not even about fucking like one. I fuck better than a man, wearing this. I dress like a man, but I'm not one. This" - she gestures at the dildo - "isn't a dick and I don't want it to be one. It's a symbol. It's a tool. Right now it's about power. Because when I'm wearing this, I'm in control." She pauses, facing Hell, and pulls Hell's leg over her hip. Hell guides the dildo in and Gene thrusts her hips, and the look on Hell's face makes Kara's muscles twitch. "When I'm wearing this, _I'm_ fucking _you_. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," Kara says.

"Good." Gene pulls out of Hell and leads her to the bed. She nods toward a packet of wipes on the bedside table. "Clean me off."

Kara cleans the dildo carefully, wiping off the moisture Hell has left. Hell lies down beside her, head propped on one hand, watching. There's a glass of water too and Kara takes a mouthful. She takes off her panties and spits the water over the dildo, soaking it up with the part of her panties that was still dry. She feels Gene's eyes on her as she wraps her hand around the dildo and slides it into her mouth.

"Good girl," Hell says approvingly.

"I think this will work," Gene says, her voice full of satisfaction. Kara just grunts, her mouth full of fake dick. The act feels just the same as a real one; she almost expects Gene to start moaning. Instead, Gene slips a hand under her chin and pushes her gently away.

"Condom," she says, and Kara obeys. "Now lie down and spread your legs."

It's easy to take these orders. Gene's tall but she seems taller, more authoritative with all her clothes off. Kara falls flat on her back, her thighs splayed. Hell strokes her hip, her leg thrown over one of Kara's, as Gene climbs onto the bed and crawls toward them. Gene's long fingers explore Kara's folds as Hell squeezes Kara's tits with a practiced hand. Gene dips that long neck and tastes Kara, the touch of her tongue making Kara shudder.

"Very good," Gene purrs. "I'm glad you came prepared."

"Fuckin's all I know how to do," Kara says, and Gene laughs. She pinches Kara's clit and then thrusts two fingers suddenly inside her.

"Ready?"

"Oh yeah," Kara breathes. Gene grins and positions herself between Kara's legs, pushing in easily and filling Kara up. "Oh God."

"That's right," Gene says. She leans down like she's going to kiss Kara but turns her face away and kisses Hell instead. Hell stretches toward Gene, her hot cunt against Kara's leg, rubbing against Kara and making her own pleasure. Gene braces herself over Kara on one arm, thrusting in sharp little bursts that make Kara cry out, and slips her other hand down so that she can fuck Hell with her fingers. Hell moans and pushes closer. Kara clutches at her, her nails dug into Hell's back, needing something to hold onto. Gene's got both of them writing and begging, completely at her mercy. The toy's shaped just right and Gene pushes just right to hit all of Kara's sweet spots. The leather harness rubs her clit and Kara don't know how she's going to ride anymore with all that leather under her all the time. She's out of her head, completely gone on the raw pleasure of their bodies against hers.

"Ask me," Gene demands, her voice so rough and low it grates just right over Kara's nerves. "Ask me if you can come."

"Please, can I?" Kara gasps, and Hell bites her neck and pinches her nipple at the same time. Kara comes so hard it's like to rip her apart, but when she can see and breathe again, she's all of a piece, with Gene still firmly in her and her own fingers tangling with Gene's in Hell's slick cunt. Hell shrieks loud enough to hear in three counties, cussing up a storm and calling Gene's name, and Gene's calling Hell's too, and Kara comes again around the toy still in her, and then they all just lay there a while, sweaty as hell, fumbling over each other.

"Glad you accepted our invitation," Hell says after a time, and all Kara can do is laugh.

\+ + + +

"So how did you come to be here?" Gene asks the next morning over the bacon and eggs and toast Hell has fried up.

"Me?" Kara asks, mouth full of crumbs. "Ain't anybody ever given you the birds and the bees talk?"

Gene looks at her with reproach and Kara sighs.

"Fine. You told me about your fucked-up life, I guess I owe you." She plays with her fork, smearing grease around her plate with a piece of toast. "Momma was in the military, I think I said before to somebody. She dragged me from base to base and got all surprised when I acted out. No friends, no home, just her and me and a buncha base housing. I was a brat in the real sense. I cut school, smoked and drank behind the BX, got into all the trouble I could. She smacked me around and I smacked her back soon as I was old enough to throw a punch. The only thing that kept me out of trouble was the times there was a stable nearby and I could ride. In the saddle, none of it mattered, but I couldn't ride all the time. So I ran away, after a while. Just headed out and kept goin'. I bought Viper and the truck with the money I had and just went where I could find work. Ended up at the Adama ranch. Me and his youngest son got along real well and after a while, we got engaged. I was, what, nineteen, twenty. A couple of weeks before the wedding we were out checking fence to make sure we could pasture a couple hundred head up in that pasture and we got caught in a storm. A bad storm - flash flood and hail the size of your fist. There was lighting that hit real close - his horse got spooked and bolted and slipped in the mud. Fell off an embankment. Broke his fool neck and Zak's too. Good thing I didn't plan to change my name."

She holds up her thumb to show them the ring and shoves a piece of toast in her mouth. "'S my sob story. It ain't half so exciting."

"I'm so sorry," Gene says.

"Don't be," Kara says. "Leastwise we never had a chance to fuck it up. Happiest three weeks of my life so far. Maybe it's better they can stay that way."

"I'll say this for you," Hell says, throwing her another piece of toast. "You're practical."

"Gotta keep livin'," Kara says. She twists the ring around her thumb, hearing the rain and her screams and the awful clatter of Colonel rolling down that hill, Zak's foot caught in the stirrup and him calling her name right back. He'd never been the best rider - Lee was better - and they shouldn't have been out when it looked like a storm might blow up, but she had told Bill Zak could hack it. She had been so in love, she'd thought they were invincible. She'd been damn stupid, is what she'd been. She swore she could bring Zak through anything just drawing on the strength of the connection between them. The way he looked at her made her believe she could do anything.

But she had been wrong, just like every other time in her life, and all she has left of Zak is the ring and the memory of his laugh. The only mercy is that she didn't have to put him out of any misery - he was gone by the time she managed to slither down without breaking her own neck. She sees Hell cup her hand over Gene's, like she can ward off Kara's bad luck. Gene squeezes Hell's fingers, watching Kara. Kara takes a deep breath and plasters a smile back on her face.

"Life's a bitch, huh," she says.

"Not all the time," Hell says.

"I thought that was her line," Kara says, jerking her head at Gene.

"Sometimes we switch off," Gene teases.

"Don't I know it," Kara says, making sure it sounds like the dirtiest joke there ever was, and that's the end of that conversation.

\+ + + +

The next night in the bunkhouse, Kendra catches Kara's eye, jerking her head toward the porch. _Meet me outside_. Kara shrugs to herself and goes - Kendra ain't steered her wrong yet. She hauls along a bottle of cheap whiskey that she finds on the table, if "find" is the right word. Boomer's looking the other way, anyway, so she'll count it as a find. Kendra's waiting for her in the shadows, arms crossed, and Kara can see the pocketknife in her hand, the blade still sheathed.

"Heard you had dinner at the big house," Kendra says in that funny accent of hers, not all West but not anything Kara's ever heard before, and she's been a lot of places.

"Might have," Kara allows. "Enjoy your vacation?"

"Maybe I hadn't mentioned: I'll cut the throat of anybody who starts spreading rumors about Gene," Kendra says calmly. "I don't ever want to hear that name even whispered in this town."

"Take the spurs off, partner," Kara says, hand palm up in front of her chest. "I ain't plannin' on sayin' _nothing_ about what ain't my business. If that's how she lives her life, so be it. She ain't the only one hiding something out here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kendra asks.

"Nothin', nothin'," Kara says. "I don't even know what you keep down that hidey-hole in the feed room."

Kendra glares at her. Kara grins and lifts the bottle. She toasts Kendra, all sarcastic-like. "We all got our ways of gettin' through the day, Shaw. You got yours and I got mine and they got theirs, so why don't we just shake hands and part friends and agree that secrets can keep themselves?"

"If you ever," Kendra starts, then shuts up when Kara raises the bottle again.

"If I ever nothin'," Kara says. "If I ever, she'll deal with me all by her lonesome and I'll be wishing it was just you and that bitty blade. She can take care of herself. Both hers, I reckon. I can't imagine Gene's a stranger to a stock and barrel, now, livin' out here where there's just a menace around every corner. I bet she can drop a coyote at fifty yards. I got no illusions that if she wanted me off this ranch, I'd be out on my ass before I could pick up my reins. I may be ten kinds of fool but let me tell you something now - I like this job. I like this place. I aim to stay here as long as they'll have me and I don't intend to do anything so stupid as to go around blabbin' Hellraiser Cain's best buddy's secrets. So you can just stash that knife away and put the attitude with it. I like you too but I ain't afraid of a little preemptive strike, if you know what I mean."

Kendra narrows her eyes. She takes the bottle from Kara. "Cheers, Starbuck."

"Glad we understand each other," Kara says.

\+ + + +

She likes it in the bunkhouse, Kendra's threats and Narcho's morning farts aside. It's a good life. There's always somebody to drink with, somebody to play cards with, somebody to taunt her when her boots aren't by her bunk. Boomer teaches her how to throw knives. Dee talks to her about Zak, but only when they're both blitzed enough they won't remember in the morning. Narcho's an asshole, but he rides pretty good. She teaches him a roping trick and he tells her about the rowdiest bronc he ever broke. Skulls and Racetrack can find any goddamn critter as loses its way in the wide world, and she learns from them how to track down every last head of the herd.

She's got friends. It's a weird feeling. She's always been a loner, ain't kept much company, but here she's part of the pack, part of the team. It's nicer than she expected it would be, when she declared herself a lone wolf and nobody's fool. Still a startling thing, like the bellow of an elk, to wake up and realize, no, she's got no bags to pack. It wasn't Momma's snores that startled her, just Louis'. No need to panic. When she wakes up, she won't have to make the coffee while Momma swears, 'cause Dee'll already have it done - Felix is like to burn it and Kendra swore off using the stove after her last job and Racetrack would never roust out of bed in time, she'd just yell at Skulls to do it and raise the dead, so Dee makes it. She'll just get up and get on with her day.

And she does, day after day after day, and it feels so good even her restless heart stops itching for the road. She's too busy to think on leaving. Plus, the work is steady and it's fun. Cain takes her and Kendra out to scout for the big roundups later in the year. They cover the whole ranch together, sometimes taking Athena along with 'em. Kara learns how to freeze brand, since Cain won't stand for being accused of cutting corners or cruelty to her stock. She applies Hell's Flying B mark to one of the spare ponies under Kendra's watchful eye. Louis holds the pony - he's got a good touch for soothing a startled critter.

"Watch out," Boomer cracks as she saunters by. "She's like to bend you over and butt brand you."

"Long as I don't have to bear the Collie," Kara says as she shaves down the pony's haunch. "I mean, it's bikini season soon enough. Thought I'd lay out, get me some color in my skin. I don't want a brand all down my ribs."

"Scrawny piece like you?" Kendra snorts, which is funny, because she's maybe half Kara's size. "Not even worth it."

"Oh, come on," Felix says, leaning over the fence. "We've all got 'em. It's like a gang sign."

"Get on with you," Kendra says.

"Don't worry, Felix," Kara says, applying the brand. "If you really want to see my ass, I'm sure you'll get your chance. I'm sure Louis won't care, 's long as you're not butt branding me."

They all snicker, and Louis turns the startled pony loose as Kara looks at her handiwork with satisfaction: the Flying B is clear and perfect. It may blur a bit when the pony's coat grows back in, but the white mark of the brand'll still show up good on the chestnut hair.

They ride out in pairs and threes to bring in the animals and move 'em out to other pastures. She teaches Dee how to chop wood for the bunkhouse and Dee teaches her how to play bridge. Felix turns out to be pretty good at the guitar, and he and Racetrack sing the raunchiest songs they know while Skulls whittles little critters out of the leftover wood from the fire. Kendra even joins in the conversation now and again.

She spends the night with Hell and Gene again a couple of weeks after the first time, and then the week after that, and then a couple times a week after that. They always end up in bed together, Gene in charge because she likes it there and Hell likes her there and Kara's happy so long's she's gettin' fucked. No problem on that score for sure. They don't always use the toys, just roll with whatever Gene feels like any particular evening. Kendra comes to dinner sometimes, but she ain't ever there by the time they get to the bedroom, just slips out after the coffee's done.

"How'd you two meet anyway," Kara asks Gene as they're all lying there in a sweaty heap. It's been hot lately, real hot, so that everything's sifted over with dust and there ain't any point in showerin' if you plan to go outside. Gene pushes her hand over her forehead like she's pushing her hair back, though it ain't hardly long enough to ruffle, much less muss. Hell laughs, a long throaty chuckle.

"You'd never believe it."

"Of course she would," Gene says, throwing Hell a lovin' grin and rearranging her long legs to drape more comfortably over the others. "Kara, first you have to know that Helena wasn't always the hardass she is today."

"Sure I was," Hell protests. "I just had a veneer of civilization over it."

"We met in a coffee shop of all places," Gene says, her eyes dancing as she stares at Hell. "At college. She was a senior. I was a junior."

"It was love at first sight," Hell says.

"It was lust at first sight," Gene corrects her. "And annoyance. You thought I was an airheaded cappuccino-drinking fashion plate."

"To my credit, you were dressed to the nines and drinking something named after a candy bar that had more whipped cream than a trifle," Hell says.

"And you came up to the counter and growled, 'Coffee if you still serve it. Black, and that means absolutely nothing in it, and I swear to God I'll stand here waiting if you have to find the filters and brew a pot of the real stuff from scratch' - now that was love at first sight."

"Yeah, she's a real charmer," Kara snarks.

"So there I was, pissed off because I'd been waiting for what felt like hours and I had class to get to and I was thinking about my LSAT prep, and then she turned around and looked at me, and I was a goner," Hell says. "Wasn't too difficult to see why it had taken so long to make her coffee."

"That poor boy never had a chance," Gene says, all tender, but Kara manages not to roll her eyes.

"Can't blame him," Hell says. "Neither did I, honeybee. I didn't even notice when he put whipped cream and vanilla sprinkles on my black coffee. Anyway, I apologized, though not profusely, bought her coffee and biscotti besides, and she gave me her number on her fancy little 'future MBA' card and that was that."

"Oh God, I'd forgotten about those," Gene giggles. "I had just decided to try to get into the MBA program and I had one of those coupons for free business cards and I used to put them in for free lunches at all the restaurants around town. I think I made up some excuse to give it to you, like I needed participants in a survey for a class project."

"We moved in together after I graduated," Hell says. "I was working in a law office, something for my resume while I studied for my LSAT. My parents funded a nice little townhouse. We had the smallest garden in all of Cambridge, but she grew tea roses and more herbs than we could ever use."

"It was perfect," Gene says. She sounds a little wistful. Kara ain't ever felt that way about a house, she thinks, she ain't ever missed one - maybe she'll sound that way someday talking about Viper. Or here, depending. If things keep on goin' okay and she bides here a while. She learned early not to get attached. But lookin' at these two, she thinks maybe there's something in settlin' down.

Hell draws one finger down Gene's face. "Darlin' honeybee, you make heaven wherever you are."

"Jesus." Kara shakes her head. "I'm surprised I ain't heard a song about this on the radio, you know, by one of them quiet-voiced boys with the tight jeans, all 'oooooh, they met in a coffee shop and their hearts collided'." She pretends to croon.

"True," Gene says. "It would be perfect. Moody. A tragic ending."

"There hasn't been any ending yet," Hell says firmly. "So you just stop that nonsense. A couple of rough bits in the middle just makes the rest sweeter."

"I didn't even go into the MBA program," Gene says. "I got that internship, and then that marketing job, and I never did get around to it."

"Correspondence courses," Kara says. "'S how I got through school."

"That's a good idea," Gene says.

"Long as you don't let anyone hire you out from under me," Hell says.

"Hah!" Gene says. "The very thought."

"Come on now," Kara says. "We all know she's the one on top."

"Most of the time," Hell says wryly.

Kara snuggles down into the covers and smirks. "Thanks for the bedtime story. Sure was a fairy tale."

"And they lived happily ever after," she hears Gene murmur to Hell, who makes a pleased sound.

"Who wouldn't be happy with you, honeybee?"

"Wait," Kara says, fightin' her way awake through a thick fog of post-fuck sleepiness, "is that why this place is the Flying Bee? For your honeybee?"

"If you ever tell anybody - and I mean anybody - that I'm sentimental, I'll wring your pretty throat," Hell says.

"You will not," Gene says firmly.

"No, I won't," Hell agrees. "I don't hold with senseless violence. But I defend my own, Thrace."

"Oh, hush, you big softy," Kara mumbles, pushing her face into the pillow. "Turns out you got a big hat and nothin' in them jeans after all."

As she falls asleep, she hears Gene laughing.

\+ + + +

Friday again, payday again, a few months down the road. The weather's getting chillier but the bar's still warm and smoky. Kendra still refuses to come, but Kara don't stop trying to talk her into it. The rest of the crowd's around, though, drinking and talking shit. Kara's leaning deep into Sam, has him pressed against the bar almost grinding against him. He squirms a little but takes it. He's easy like Sunday morning, Sam is - hasn't pushed her much, lets her spend the night over at his when she wants to and still makes her breakfast to boot, pays for her drinks. He's got a decent job at the local co-op really, makes more than enough to drink on. He can't ride like he used to since he busted his back, but they've been out on easy rides a few times, and he's plenty limber for her purposes. It's nice to catch some sleep in a room nobody else shares but her now and again. Anyhow, it's working out for now. Dee's got her hand on Billy's thigh under the table laughin' like nobody'll notice, so maybe that's working out too. Boomer and Athena are chatting up some tall drink of water in the corner - looks like a newcomer from what Kara can make out. Enough beer and she don't care.

"So what're we gonna do tonight?" Sam mumbles into her ear.

"Same as most nights," she tells him. "Get shit-drunk, take all our clothes off, maybe I'll tie you up, maybe if you're real nice I'll let you lick me crazy, you kinky bastard."

"Now you're talkin'," he says with that smile she sure don't mind wakin' up to, even if she ain't inclined to think about it beyond that.

"Starbuck?" The twins' tall drink of water leans around. "Zat you?"

"Helo!" Kara leaps across the corner of the dance floor, nearly knocking over a chair. She tackles him. "Hey, Sammy, this is my buddy Helo, met him when I was roping."

"Any buddy of Kara's is a pal of mine," Sam says all mannerly, sticking out his hand.

"As long as it's not a naked buddy," Boomer cracks.

"So that's how it is, huh?" Helo asks, looking from Sam to Kara.

"Long as I can stand him," Kara says, punching Sam in the arm.

"Good luck with that," Helo says, leaning back and slinging an arm around each twin. He squints at Sam. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"Could be," Sam says. "Used to do a little rodeo. Rode the bulls until I took a fall. Landed on my head, broke my neck."

"Shit, man," Helo says. "You doin' all right now?"

"Everything's in working condition," Kara cracks, leaning against Sam. "Nothing to hurt in his head."

"Doctors said they'd never seen anybody recover faster," Sam says. "Called me Superman. They said it was a long shot that I'd ever walk again, but here I am. Just get a little stiff sometimes, and I'll too busted up to do the circuit anymore."

"Good to hear," Helo says. "Good to hear." He reaches across Boomer's back and grabs his beer. "What the hell have you been up to, Starbuck?"

"Fuckin', fightin', the usual."

"She's Hellraiser Cain's little pet now," Boomer says.

"The apple of her eye," Athena says, raising her beer.

Helo laughs. "Really?"

"You're an asshole, Agathon," Kara says, but she's laughing too.

"Just sayin', the Kara Thrace I know ain't what you'd think of as anybody's apple-polisher," Helo says.

"Ain't apples she polishes," Boomer cracks.

"Hey now," Sam says. Kara shoots them a glare. She's made sure Sam don't think they're exclusive or serious or nothin', but he don't need to suspect nothin' either. The twins just roll their eyes at him, not like they know anything. Kara don't call Hellraiser "Hell" in front of anybody, and she don't flirt, and she makes sure she don't roll in lookin' like she's just been rode hard and put away wet either. She crawls back to the bunkhouse most nights anyway, drinks and gambles and talks shit with the rest of them.

"You got nothin' to worry about, Sammy boy," she says, rolling her ass against him and tipping her head back on his shoulder.

The music stops. At least, that's what she thinks. Really it's just that there's a click as the cd changes, or whatever fucking thing the jukebox does to make it seem like it's playing records. Either way she turns around, and there standing in the doorway like the calf who's just seen the coyote is Lee Adama. And he's wearing a goddamn suit.

"Well I'll be damned," Helo says with a low whistle.

"Jesus fucking Christ on a raft," Kara says.

"What's wrong, baby?" Sam murmurs, suddenly stiff as hell behind her, and not in the way she likes.

"My goddamn past just strolled in that door," she says.

"How come you never mentioned your past looked that good?" Athena says.

"Think I mentioned shut the hell up," Kara snaps.

Dee moseys over, Billy trailing behind her. "Is that Lee Adama?"

"Sure looks like him," Helo says.

They all watch Lee make his way to the bar. He knows how to clear a crowd, anyway: everybody in the place is staring at him. He looks like the greenest city slicker of all time - shoes polished, hair full of gel or product or whatever the hell they call it, face fresh like he just shaved. He looks good, Kara admits, and he always was cleaner than average, even after he'd been out on his daddy's ranch for days. At least he's still drinking cheap-ass beer like the rest of them.

He looks around as the bartender passes his change over. Kara knows when he sees her; she feels the jolt like she's hit the end of a rope. Sam puts his hand on her hip to steady her.

"Kara," Lee says. "Hey, Dee, Helo."

"Lee," she says, ice cold. The others nod.

"Been a while," he says, too casual.

"You look like a goddamn greenhorn fool," she tells him.

"Didn't feel like taking my cowboy boots to law school," he says.

"What are you doing here?" she snaps.

"Looking for you," he says, almost too quiet to hear since the jukebox is banging out another twangy tune. "We've got some unfinished business, you and I."

"You never gave a damn about that before," she says.

"Will you have coffee with me sometime?" he asks. "Or lunch or a drink or anything. We need to talk, Kara."

"We don't need to do nothin'," she says. "But I'll think about it. By the by, 'round here, we consider it polite to introduce ourselves. Sammy, this is Lee Adama. You're not gonna meet anybody with a bigger stick up his ass."

"Good to know," Sam says, trying out a friendly tone.

"Nice to meet you," Lee says, his lips barely moving, his eyes still on Kara.

"Get your ass out of here before somebody hands it to you," Kara says, jerking her head toward the door.

Lee puts his bottle to his lips and drains his beer without a word. They all just watch him down it. He tosses the bottle in the trash and walks away.

"Jesus," Dee says. "You weren't wrong about him gettin' citified. Never seen anyone in this bar wearing a tie done up all the way."

"We're out of here, Anders," Kara says, and drags Sam away, not that it takes much. He stumbles along behind her on those long legs.

"Kara, what...?" he starts as she pushes him through his front door, but she shuts him up with her mouth and her busy hands. Fuck Lee for coming here, just when she's got her life worked out some. Fuck herself for thinking any of it could ever be over when the Adamas were involved. She fucks Sam instead, sucks him until his eyes are rolling around and rides him until they're nearly passed out. She'll deal with Lee later, unless he takes the hint and leaves town.

"Goddammit," she mumbles to herself. Sam reaches out in his sleep and pulls her closer. She half shakes him off and lies awake staring into the dark and twisting the ring she still wears on her thumb.

"Goddammit," she says again, with more feeling, but she don't cry. She don't ever cry anymore.

\+ + + +

She meets Lee the next day in the diner. Hell didn't bat an eye when she asked off a half-day. The place is nearly a carbon copy of the one two towns over where she used to work, where she served Laura slice after slice of pie. He's sitting there polishing his fork on a napkin. She rolls her eyes. You can't take the city out of the boy, 'specially when he's been longing for it his whole life. He looks like an idiot, and prissy to boot.

"Talk at me," she says, falling into the booth.

"How have you been?"

"You don't really care," she says.

"Kara..."

"Why are you here?" she demands. "Just show up to tell everybody what a fuck-up I am? 'Cause this time I'm doing okay, all right? So just get the hell back to the city and fuck somebody who likes the opera or some fucking thing and forget about this place."

"I missed you," he says.

"Like hell."

"You think I wanted to?" he asks her. "After Zak? After everything? I did my damn best to forget you, Kara."

"Then why are you here?" she says, angry and low. Shoutin' ain't gonna solve anything with him - she'll only draw the attention of the gossips.

"Dad needed some legal advice," he says. "And Lampkin told me he was looking for a new partner for his firm. It's good experience. I'll have to work for it, but not like I would in the city."

"How is the old man?" Kara asks.

"He misses you," Lee tells her. "Not that he's out at the Bucket much. When Laura took the job here and moved, his heart wasn't in it anymore. Spends half his time hanging around town. I'm surprised you haven't seen him."

"I'm busy," Kara says shortly. "Unless he's drinkin' with the cowpokes, I'd have no reason for seeing him."

"I guess he's mostly with Laura anyway," Lee says.

They stare at each other over the table.

"I missed you some," Kara says finally. "Don't think that means anything."

Half an hour later they're tangled up together in the bed in his hotel room. He pushes into her lookin' like she's the answer to his prayers, his eyes wide and loving. He's making all the promises she never wanted to hear, but God, she can't deny she wants this, been wanting it for years, and the guilt almost makes it sweeter. She digs her nails deep into his back - if he wants penance, he'll get it, because she's been waiting so long for absolution she swears she's seen the Second Coming - and makes him swear, but he's not letting go. He never has and never will, as far as she can tell. He's been hooked since the first time he came back from college and caught her and Zak making out behind the barn. He's been hooked bad since the engagement party, but then again, she really shouldn't have fucked him when Zak passed out drunk. But she was dog-ass-drunk herself, and they were doing tequila shots, and somebody dared somebody, and from then all bets and clothes were off. They never talked about it - she barely talked to him for the last few days he was around. But he went back to college and Zak was dead not even a month later, and there she was feeling sorry for herself. Now she feels sorry for both of them, especially the way he's looking at her, the way he chokes out her name.

She shouldn't have fucked him after the funeral either, two weeks they spent in that cheapass motel only coming out for air and cheap burgers. Wasn't even lust then, just grief and the relief of a moment where there wasn't a goddamn thing in her head, all her awful thoughts crowded out by sweet, sharp oblivion. This time she's got no excuse, just goddamn middle class morality creeping up to tell her she should feel like a piece of shit for fucking him, which she doesn't and she won't.

She leaves as soon as he falls asleep and tells Sam she'll meet him for dinner. Even over the phone she can hear how his eyes light up. Poor sucker: he's hooked good. She might feel sorry for him if she weren't so busy feeling sorry for herself.

All her life she's been trouble, made trouble, asked for trouble. Finally she stops asking and it shows up anyway, like she went and put out the welcome mat. Well, if she can't handle it by know, she oughta move to Antarctica. It's time for her to pull on her boots and deal with it. Lee'll never leave now, that's certain. She'll just have to make it all work.

"Hey, gorgeous," Sam says when she meets him.

"Hey yourself," she says. She ain't ashamed of fuckin' Lee, but the light in Sam's eyes when he sees her gives her a twinge. She slides her arms around him, pins his biceps to his sides, not that it'll hold if he struggles. "Miss me?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "I really did."

"God, Sam, you're worse than a teenage girl, all pining away." She plops down next to him. "What are we drinking?"

"Beer," he says. "Hey, it's the first time I've been the one making the doe eyes. It's a nice change."

"It's somethin'," she says, and swigs her beer down quick. Good damn thing she don't have scruples, or she might feel bad right now, and Sam's sweet-talkin' only making it all worse, but that ain't the way her life works. She's paid the price enough times in her life: now she's gonna drink what she wants, fuck who she wants, and work where she wants, and she ain't gonna answer to nobody but God. To hell with the rest of them. She ain't ever bought into that morality crap: if God's around up there, well, he made her the way she is and he loves her the way she is, and ain't nobody else can forgive her, so there ain't nobody she's gonna apologize to for drinking and fighting and fucking around. She tried livin' right and she got no rewards for it, so she might as well make the most of the life and the body she's got.

Shame is something other people feel these days, but still, she ain't lookin' forward to breaking Sam's heart. He looks at her the way Zak used to, like he can't keep his eyes off her, like the sight of her just lights him up. He don't treat her like some porcelain doll nor like a cheap lay. He's falling in love and that's a fact. She's slip-sliding down that slope herself - it'd be impossible not to love Sam, with his open heart and the way he calls her name in the heat of passion and covers her face with kisses. She's learned enough to control the fall, though, for now. Least when she's not around Lee, she can control it, God damn his blue eyes.

It'll be worse before it gets better. That much she's learned.

\+ + + +

It's worse when Lee invites her to lunch on her day off and she shows up expecting a booty call and finds that she's sitting across from Bill and Laura. She should have known better when Lee wanted to meet at the fancy restaurant - she had to drive all the way to Whitefish, as if Eureka ain't got enough diners to find a decent meal at one or the other.

"Kara, so good to see you," Laura says, beaming. Kara grins back, swaying her hips while she walks.

"Kara," Bill says in that rumbly voice that he's got, and she has to grit her teeth, because every time she talks to him it all comes back. Zak and his tender kisses, Lee and his annoying older brother not-in-love-with-you act that she half wishes he hadn't dropped, Bill being the first daddy she's ever had who told her he'd never leave and really didn't. If he hugs her, she might cry. She loves him and hates him for that. She stands there, all thumbs and blinking against eyes that sting.

"What d'you hear, Starbuck?" Bill asks her.

"Nothin' but the rain," she says, some old thing he learned back in the day in the Navy and told her but not his boys. Like that wouldn't cause problems.

Lee looks at her all anxious and she sits down and shoots him a look that says he'll pay for this later.

It's a tense meal. The food's good, but Kara just chews it automatically. She answers Laura's questions. No, she hasn't gone to college - she spent a couple of years drinking her brains out and doing rodeo, picking up odd jobs. Yes, she works for Hellraiser Cain. Bill perks his ears up at that.

"You be wary of her, Starbuck," he says. "I've heard what she puts her ranch hands through."

"I've been through fire and ice and I'm alive," she sasses back. "Nothin' she could do that'll break me."

"I worry about you," he says, and for a second it's like they're the only people in the room. Not in a sexy way - she shudders to think of that, still not in a sexy way - but in that way he's got of making her feel like family, like the only one who matters, like his lifeline. Not like Lee, who makes her feel like a goddess and a criminal all at once.

"Old man, you know better than anybody I take care of myself," she says back, breaking the moment.

"I know," he says, and he sounds sad.

"Kara," Laura says, all precise in her pronunciation, "I want to hear all about the rodeo circuit. I've been to the rodeo, of course, but I'm not quite certain about the particulars. Why don't you tell me about it?"

So Kara spins out a yarn about ridin' and ropin' and buckin' broncs that won't be tamed, hint hint, in between bits of story, they eat, and for a little while she sees the hurt in Bill's eyes fade. She won't admit how torn in half that makes her feel. She and Lee have always fought like dogs and fucked the same way and when they're together it's only about the two of them in all the world, but Bill always let her know she was family. Zak too. She didn't only want to be Zak's wife, she wanted to be an Adama. She wanted to belong somewhere. It'll never happen now, not with them. Not like she wanted. But she's still got something good. She's still got a family. She squares her shoulders up and looks Bill straight in the eyes.

"Good to see you, old man," she says. "Laura. Don't you worry 'bout me. I get by."

Lunch is pretty much over by then. They both hug her goodbye. She holds 'em tight, but not too long. They sit and watch her and Lee make their way out of the place -she can feel their eyes on her, sizing her up. She leans against her truck and crosses her arms so she won't punch Lee right here in the parking lot. He stands all shifting from foot to foot like he knows how much she wants to smack him in the mouth. To his credit, he probably does.

"Trottin' me out in front of the parents?" she demands. "That's low, Lee."

"I love you, Kara," he says, all earnest. When he gets that look on his face, she always wants to punch him. This time, she can't bury her face in Zak's neck.

"Never gonna happen," she tells him. "You got to move on, Lee Adama. You can't come in here and stir up old business and expect me to run away with you."

"You want to run away with me," he says, moving in closer. Now if she hit him, it would hardly hurt 'cause she couldn't put any weight behind it, but ain't that always the way with the two of them.

"I finally got my feet to quit itchin'," she says quietly. "I don't want this."

"Then tell me no," he says. "Say it and mean it and I'll get the hell out of your life."

"This ain't some goddamn romantic movie," she tells him. "This ain't destiny."

"Feels like it," he says, stepping even closer, and there ain't ever been a thing she could say to that. It won't be the first time she's gone back to the ranch reeking of sex. Hell don't seem to mind too much, just pushes her into the shower and lets Gene take over. No amount of washing's ever gonna cure the restless wandering itch Lee puts into her feet, but that's life. She should have known nothing's ever gone for good.

\+ + + +

"Let's go out," Gene says, one day while it's the two of them in bed and Hell's in the shower. "All of us. Let's go somewhere."

"I thought you didn't leave the house," Kara says, stroking Gene's thigh.

"Sometimes," Gene says, all wistful. "Sometimes I do. Helena takes me to the movies."

"Nearest theater is what, two hours away?" Kara asks. "Shit, that's a lotta driving."

"I feel safer that way," Gene says. "I don't like to see a lot of people. But I feel braver now, since I met you. Your life hasn't been easy, but you're not afraid."

"Oh, shit happens." Kara rolls over, half onto Gene. "You can't let the bastards break you."

"We had a life Before," Gene says. "I could go anywhere. I was never afraid. I took the bus at night. I went everywhere I wanted. But After, before we moved, I couldn't even go to the grocery store by myself. I needed Helena with me, everywhere I went. I threw away all my clothes and tried to keep people from seeing me. But you don't do that."

"Nah," Kara tells her. "But me, I'm stubborn. People try to fuck me over, I tell 'em to go fuck themselves. It hasn't won me too many friends, I'll tell you."

"Helena has been incredible," Gene says. "I want to deserve her."

"She loves you," Kara says. "That ain't about deserving."

"Still," Gene insists, "life would be easier for her if I weren't afraid. Can you help me?"

"Start small," Kara says. "You got a horse that's been spooked, you don't take it right back out there. You got to gentle yourself back into living."

"It used to be easy," Gene says.

"The older you get, the shittier it is," Kara teases her. "I mean, right now, you're just feared to walk around where there's people, but from there it only gets worse, 'cause one way your looks'll go, and your teeth'll all fall out, and you'll start demandin' the early bird special and you'll drive real slow, and you'll actually start thinkin' that Social Security sounds like a fine idea and you'll talk about how things back in your day were."

Gene starts to laugh.

"There you go," Kara says. "Hold on to that. You got to have something to put in your head aside from the fear. Maybe it's laughter. Maybe it's anger. Maybe it's love. Just anything else that fills up the space. Don't tell anyone I told you the secret, now. People might start thinkin' I got a heart or something."

"You're a good person, Kara Thrace," Gene says, stroking Kara's back.

"I'm just biding time," Kara says. "Got no call to be cruel to you. All you ever done to me is make me feel good. At least I can return the favor."

"I'll tell Helena," Gene says, her face scrunched up with determination.

Kara knows exactly when Gene tells Hell, because Hell corners her up against the barn with an forearm to the throat.

"So help me God, if any harm comes to her because of this harebrained scheme of yours," she growls, and Kara struggles under her hold.

"Look, it wasn't me!" she says. "Not my idea! Gene's idea. I didn't say a damn thing." Hell backs off and Kara rubs her throat. "It was Gene. Not me. I wasn't even encouraging it, really. But you can't keep a bird caged forever."

Hell eases off. "Her idea?"

"Her idea," Kara confirms. "Look, I know my place, and it ain't urgin' her on, okay? I ain't trying to stir up anything. I like things the way they are."

"But if she doesn't," murmurs Hell, "then where does that leave us?"

"Livin'," Kara offers. "The one thing I learned in school - living means changing, adapting to whatever the hell happens next. Response to stimulants or whatever they called it. Yeah, we like things to stay the same, but they don't, and we deal with it."

"I suppose we do," Hell says, forgetting to use her cowboy voice. "All right. Maybe you can help."

"How's that?" Kara asks warily.

Hell grins. "Story time. Just talk to her about what it was like before, let her remember how good life can be."

"I think she thinks her life is plenty good as long as you're around."

Hell shrugs. "I do my best for her."

"And I know what side my paycheck's buttered on, huh?" Kara cracks.

"That has nothing to do with this," Hell says, glaring her down.

"Damn, Hell, you get so serious about her," Kara says. "Put the laser-eyes away, now. I ain't lookin' to hurt your girl. She's a prize and that's a fact. 'Sides, I like our arrangement. I aim to keep it going."

Hell relaxes, slowly. "So you'll try?"

"Sometimes it just takes a new face," Kara says. "Some new ears. I'll get her to open up some. Don't worry about that."

It ain't as if she doesn't have the opportunity. She just falls asleep one night beside Hell and Gene - their bed's big enough for three and still comfortable - which means she's still there in the morning, which means that Gene pops up and decides to make a big old breakfast. She wears pajama pants and a man's silk robe around the house, but the blue brings out her eyes. Kara's encouraged by it, anyway, that touch of class, and Gene hasn't harnessed her tits to her chest this time, so that seems like progress. Gene looks real happy, actually, squeezing oranges and stirring up pancake batter. Hell drinks coffee with more cream than she'd probably like except that Gene poured it and does the crossword and watches Gene, one corner of her mouth all curved up.

"So what was it like, back in the city?" Kara asks, drinking her coffee black with a little sugar. Good coffee, though. Way better than most she's had lately, and light years beyond the sludge they served at the diner. Being the boss' go-to girl has its perks.

"The kitchen was smaller," Gene says, smiling, "remember, Helena? We barely had space for everything on the counter." She gives the batter one last stir and leaves it to sit, sprinkling a little cinnamon into the bowl.

"I remember, honeybee - all those weekend trips to the IKEA and the Container Store," Hell says. She gets up and rummages in the cupboards for some syrup, then gets out a frying pan and some bacon.

Gene pulls a carton of strawberries out of the refrigerator. "Of course, we didn't need to have everything here, because we could walk to the store. Or anywhere else we wanted, really."

"Must be weird," Kara says. "Convenient, but weird."

"I do miss sidewalks," Gene says, all wistful.

"Hey, we've got those," Kara says. "They're just covered with tobacco spit and mud. Fuck, I can't think of walking everywhere. That's what horses and cars are for."

"We had better shoes for it," Gene says. She leans against the fridge all dreamy-eyed.

"You didn't," Hell reminds her. "There wasn't a practical pair of shoes in your closet."

"I had some flats," Gene says, ducking her head and smiling. "And some sandals."

"You will never convince me those things that laced all the way up to the knee were practical." Hell drops bacon in the pan and listens to it sizzle.

"Well, no, not those," Gene allows.

"I liked them anyway," Hell says, and kisses Gene as she goes past with the berries.

"I know you did, Kuschelbär." Gene bats her eyes and cuts up the strawberries, tossing them into a pan with a little brown sugar. She stirs the berries and taps the spoon on the side of the pan, and then sighs. "I miss it."

"Miss what, honeybee, the city?" Hell says, playing dumb as she turns the bacon.

Gene turns on the pancake pan and drops butter into it. "Life."

"You don't think this is living?"

"You know what I mean, Helena," Gene says, patiently. "Life before this. Life outside this ranch. Remember when we went to Germany and we missed the train and ended up in the wrong place and it didn't even matter? Life when...when I wasn't afraid. Life when I didn't feel like I had to be like this. Life when I felt like myself. Really, I feel like myself, but it's just that my self now is a different person than my self was then." She wraps the robe tighter around her and then ladles batter into the hot pan, swirling it around. "And I miss my clothes, which is shallow, but it's true. But I'll never be that person again." She flips the pancake.

"If you want to get off the ranch for a while, we can do that," Hell suggests.

"No, they need you," Gene says. She flips the pancake onto a plate and spoons strawberries onto it before folding it over and handing the plate to Kara. "Not the crepes you'd get in Paris, but I hope you like them."

"If I don't have to chase it down before I can eat it, I love it," Kara says. Hell gives her some bacon and a hairy eyeball. "Uh, thank you, ladies."

"I just want to go with you more, schatzi," Gene says to Hell. "Not all the time, I think, and not everywhere, but I'd love to be able to go to the store if we needed something instead of waiting for you to have the time to do it."

"It's not an inconvenience," Hell says, putting her arm around Gene's waist as Gene starts another pancake.

"I feel like I've been half-alive," Gene insists. "If I let my fear rule me, then those motherfuckers will always win. Every day that I stay in the house, they're winning. And I'm tired of that. I won't let them control my life. I want to live fully and suck the marrow out of life and all of that clichéd nonsense. I want to be in the world, instead of hidden away from it. Can we do that? Not all at once, but over time?"

"Looks like that wanderlust is contagious," Kara says through a mouthful.

"We'll start slow," Hell promises, and kisses Gene so long that Kara'd be embarrassed if she weren't herself. As it is, she's turned on instead. All in all, that's a pretty good morning.

\+ + + +

They do start slow. Gene gets her concealed weapon license and a shoulder holster that looks real elegant on her under her jacket. They go on rides around the ranch to get used to the open air - Gene's got a palomino, of course, because what else would Hell get her to go with that ivory and gold theme she's got goin' on. The horse is a pretty mare, long-legged and sweet-tempered, got a long pedigreed proper name like Rapunzel's Golden Dream, but Gene just calls her Dreamy. Hell calls her Fancypants and gets a glare that makes Kara laugh. It's real nice, the three of them cantering through the lower pasture. It's good to hear Gene laugh and see some color in her cheeks.

"Too fast?" Kara calls, joking, and in answer, Gene kicks Dreamy into a gallop and smokes them both over half a mile. She takes her prize out of them later that evening, puts on chaps and nothing else, ties up Hell and Kara both and makes them squirm until they're begging for release. She tickles them with a long crop and then uses her tongue and fingers to turn the light sting into pure pleasure. Ain't nothing better, Kara thinks with satisfaction, than a lady takin' charge of her life.

The next weekend they go camping. Hell plots out a fairly easy trip - Gene's a fine rider, but might as well not complicate the matter - and Gene packs up what amount to gourmet meals in little foil packets, wrapping them all up careful in her saddlebags even when Kara warns her that they'll squish. Gene insists they won't. Hell and Kara both roll their eyes, but Gene's got some kind of magic: when she pulls them out to put in the coals, not a one of them has leaked. They're all three of them starving after the day's ride - long, mostly leisurely, but wearying even so. Kara can't speak for anybody else, but she spent the hours with one eye on Gene, just to make sure, which made Viper antsy.

She could get used to this, though. Gene, used to comforts and with less need to travel light, has brought some nicer bedrolls too. They eat a real meal out of the foil packets, meatloaf and mashed potatoes and roasted cabbage, with folding silverware that Gene is so proud of buying off a camping website, and they drink wine and Gene tells more stories about how citified Hell used to be, the pencil skirts and stiletto heels and lipstick Hell used to wear.

"Hush, darlin'," Hell says, quieting Gene for a moment with a kiss. "I'm very careful to cultivate fear in my employees. You're spoiling it."

"Knowing you were a lady with an emphasis on the lah-dee-dah don't change the fact that you could hogtie me and leave me out here," Kara points out. "I don't give a damn what you wear. It don't change who you are. Sure is funny, though, thinkin' about you all corporate."

Gene's extra warmth in the tent doesn't go unappreciated either. There's enough of a chill in the air that it's beginning to smell of snow, but they find a way to keep each other warm and satisfied, and it ain't got a thing to do with sleeping. Eventually they all conk out, though, and Kara wakes up with her arm slung over Gene and Hell's arm atop hers, the three of them close as kittens. It's nice. They take their sweet time riding home. Kendra don't say a thing, just looks at Kara kind of wistful. She better spend some time in the bunkhouse, Kara thinks - it don't do to lose the people who need to have your back. So she stays out of Hell's way, just lets her gentle Gene on back into the world. She talks shit with the others, cleans tack and mends fence, grooms Viper to within an inch of his life, and rides out to make sure the wintering herds are doin' fine.

"Let's take this party somewhere else," Hell says after a few weeks.

"Where?" Gene asks.

"Movies?" Hell asks. "There's a couple of good ones playing."

"Let's ask Kendra," Gene says impulsively. Hell and Kara trade glances, uncertain, but then Hell shrugs.

"Why not? If she'll go."

"Have you lost your fool mind?" is what Kendra says when Kara asks her, but she also says that she'll come. She doesn't know, Kara thinks, why Gene's the way she is, but Kendra's not the type to nose around where she's not wanted. Kendra likes where she's at, second in command. She ain't gonna push that to the limit. At least she's quiet company and not like to talk during the movie.

Hell piles the other three of them into the truck one weekend and they drive all the way to the next state, just to find a place where no one will know Gene. They sneak into a movie - Gene insists they pay for tickets - so that it's dark when they get in, and they leave before the lights come up, but then they go and get food, right up to the counter of the restaurant, though they take it away, after. Kara's gentled enough ponies to know that it's a good start. Hell smiles when she thinks nobody's looking, and Gene chatters away all the way home while Kendra offers up a couple of words at a time. Kara slouches in the back seat of the truck and dozes off.

"Welcome back to the living," she mumbles under her breath.

\+ + + +

She works the range. Even during the winter when the herds are pastured close, there are things to do. Hellraiser Cain keeps her ranch hands busy. When the weather's decent, Kara's out riding fence with Boomer and Athena and Racetrack and Skulls and Narcho, mending the places where the wire's worn through. Hell's got a hell of a lot of fence. When they're not mending fence, they're mending and soaping tack, getting ready to brand, doing all the damn branding, getting ready to shear, making sure sharp things are as sharp as they oughta be and everything else is in the right place. Hell does a little bit of everything, calling Kendra or Athena or Skulls or Kara to come with her.

Kara's still with Sam, of course, and he's trying to get serious, in his way. His sweet, determined, misguided, breakfast-makin' way. But she likes things with Sam. He's right that he's easy, in so many ways. Easy to talk to, easy to love, easy to leave. He's the first goddamn easy thing in her life, and she don't want to let that go. When she sees Lee, she ain't ever sure at first if the evening's going to end with them fuckin' or fightin'. She's thrown a punch before and he throws 'em right back, which she respects and appreciates in what she knows is a fucked-up way. But she likes the fight, too, just as well or maybe more than the easy, which she don't really want to examine too close, because the more she looks at it, the more idiotic it looks. Choosing hard over easy ain't sensible any way she pulls it apart, even if Lee'll have more money in a year than Sam'll probably have in five. She ain't anybody who cares about riches as long as she's got food in her belly and boots on her feet. So she fucks 'em both, loves 'em and leaves 'em and comes back.

Hell and Gene are a whole other story. When she's with them, she feels different, wilder, tamer, begging for orders the way Kara Thrace ain't ever done, tryin' things in bed she ain't ever even imagined before, letting Gene fuck her while Hell watches, giving them both back as good as she's got. She's even used to the harness now, likes it, likes making Hell scream, likes crawling on her knees for Gene. The sex is mind-blowing, and even though it's clear that they're for each other and she's there to entertain 'em, she can't muster up the will to mind. She fits right into their bed, and she don't need to be part of their most private lives. She's at home on the ranch and that's plenty. For the first time in her life, she don't mind the thought of stopping somewhere a while, having a permanent address, a place to come home too even when she's got half a mind to run away. She can't remember a time she didn't have the itch for going, and she can't remember a time before now that she felt the urge to stay. She's got friends here. It's a strange feeling, but she don't want to fuck it up.

Still, she can't give Lee up even though he's still trying to haul her away, and she just plain doesn't want to leave Sam, so she just shares her off nights around between 'em, when she isn't in Hell and Gene's bed or tired of the whole mess and ready to drive all night just so she can breathe the free air, not that that's much of an option with the snow everywhere. But she manages to get away just enough to want to come back, the times she needs it most. She always wants to come back.

And so the winter passes: she keeps warm. Viper's restless but she just rubs him down and tells him they're settled for now, and that's that, and if she keeps saying it long enough, maybe she'll believe it.

\+ + + +

Spring comes creeping in. Out on the range, the snow starts melting. The bunkhouse floors are spattered with mud and Kara jokes that she can track her bunkmates just by their dirty footprints on the floor. Narcho of all people gets antsy and mops every couple of days, but he can't fight the thaw. It still snows - wet spring snow that crusts on the fences and the backs of the herds when Kara and Boomer and Kendra ride 'round to bring 'em closer - but winter's loosing its grip. Life gets messy in the spring, Kara thinks, all that life wakin' up. She can tell Lee's gettin' more and more eager to take her away from all of this, turn her into something she ain't. Sam wants more too, wants more of her. Well, she ain't got more to give - she's all portioned out.

Gene's getting better and better. Hell takes her someplace almost every weekend now. They even go to Canada and come back with a souvenir for Kara, a t-shirt with a maple leaf on it and a bottle of maple whiskey. Gene tells Kara all about it, breathless and bright-eyed and talking as much with her hands as she is with her mouth. She still don't do well with crowds or dark alleys or the idea of planes and trains and things she can't exit any old time she wants, but Kara can see the change in her. She's living again, breathing again, after these years in the prison she made out of her own thoughts. Kara knows the feeling. She's feeling it too. Summer comes and one night Kara goes up to dinner at the big house and Gene's wearing a skirt. Her hair's still cropped short - that ain't likely to change - and she's got moccasins on her feet instead of any of the fancy shoes Kara's seen stashed in the closet, but she's got a sparkle in her eye that's new, or new to Kara, anyway. Hell seems to recognize it. She waltzes Gene all around the kitchen and both of 'em laugh.

"Thank you," Hell says to Kara, private on the porch as Kara's getting ready to saunter back down to her bunk.

"I didn't do a damn thing," Kara says, pointing at Gene. "It was her. She's tough. She just don't know it."

"I've got back the woman I fell in love with," Hell says. "Not that I didn't love her sad, but it's so good to see her happy."

"All in a day's work," Kara says, striking a superhero pose. "Kara Thrace's special brand of therapy. Does wonders. Keep you up all night not talkin' about anything much and in the morning, there ain't nothin' you can't face. Bring your own booze."

"Get on with you," Hell says sternly, but she's grinnin' like to split her face.

\+ + + +

Kara's out on the range again with Hell, the two of 'em so accustomed now that they work like a pair of good dogs, moving the herd just where they want 'em with hardly a word or a motion. They've got a routine going for afterwards, too: get the herd to a good place, set up camp, eat a meal out of cans, and fuck each other stupid as long as they can stay awake. Gene don't seem to mind. It's clear to anyone who's so much as seen the two of them together that Hell ain't ever gonna leave Gene, and Kara wouldn't want her to. She's got troubles enough. 'Sides, she likes their arrangements. She likes fitting in neat and tidy when she's there, and being out of mind when she ain't around.

"Lord," Hell pants, on her hands and knees in the tent. "You been practicing on those boyfriends of yours?"

"Yeah, I bend 'em over just like that and they love it just the same," Kara jibes, slipping her fingers out of Hell's tight wet cunt. "Only it's a different hole on them. They take it and ask for more though, just like you."

"Hah." Hell sits up and grabs a fistful of Kara's hair, pulling her in for a rough kiss. "You're lucky you're a good fuck."

"I get lots of practice," Kara says.

"So I hear," Hell says. "Between this and your fellas, I'm amazed you've got time to ride herd."

"Don't worry, ma'am, your stock'll always be my priority," Kara says sarcastically. "Keeping Lee and Sam corralled is just another kind of riding herd."

"Can't keep two bulls in the same pen," Hell says with scorn. "You keep stringin' those two boys along, there'll be trouble."

"I can handle 'em," Kara says. She stretches, smug under Hell's admiring gaze. "I handle you, don't I?"

"I let you handle me," Hell says. There's a knife's edge in her voice. "I could bust you like a pinata, little girl, and you know it."

"Eight seconds and I win the prize," Kara says, and tumbles Hell over in the bedroll.

She sleeps as sound that night as she does any other night, dead to the world. But when she's back in the bunkhouse, playing poker with some of the muscle and drinking them under the table, she knows that Hell wasn't wrong. She can't keep stringing them along forever. Sam's near enough to proposing as makes no nevermind. Lee's called her up so many times trying to get her to come away with him that she turned off her phone, not that she ever carries it.

Her next day off, she doesn't say a word to anyone, just saddles Viper up and takes off. She rides up as high as she can, straight up the mountain, letting Viper pick his own path. She needs the altitude to clear her head. When Viper's sweating and snorting, she turns him loose and stands looking out over the edge. It's cold as hell up here, ice crackling on the rocks as the sun hits it, but the air is clear and so is her mind.

"You're what matters," she tells Viper when he wanders up and puts his big whiskery chin on her shoulder, hoping for a treat. "The rest of it, I don't give a damn."

Up here, it's easy to see what's true. She and Lee ain't ever gonna get over Zak. His ghost is always gonna be between them. Can she live with that? Maybe. Can she live without it? Maybe not. Lee calls to the restlessness in her, the part that wants to change things. The part that wants to redeem her damn fool life. But he calls up her past, too, the things she don't want to remember: kneeling over Zak where he lay in the mud with his last breath knocked out of his lungs, nursing a bruise Momma gave her, the long dark night she packed up her bags and left forever, the long dark night she and Lee fucked like morning wasn't ever gonna come while Zak snored two rooms away.

Sam don't ever ask her where she came from. He just takes her as she is. Maybe he wants more of her too, wants her to settle down and stop fuckin' around, but he ain't demanded anything. All he does is look at her with those big blue eyes.

Hell and Gene, now that's a whole other story. Maybe it started as a good hard fuck, maybe it started out as a convenient way to get her rocks off and get in good with the boss. But it ain't so simple anymore. She's free to walk out anytime and leave them to each other, but she won't - it's too interesting, watching Gene shake off the shackles of her past. Kara's a little envious, to be honest. She ain't ever gotten away from Momma and she don't really want to get away from the memory of Zak.

Come to think, Sam still reminds her of Zak: easy like Sunday morning, just welling over with love, not trying to fix her or reform her or haul her along anywhere. Just waiting 'til he runs out of patience. Just hoping she'll love him back. But Zak was a long time ago, when she was what she might call now innocent, willing to believe that her happiness meant it would all work out. She ain't so naive these days, doesn't know how she thought it then.

She wishes the wind would blow away all these tangled-up threads, these webs of loving arms in which she's caught. But then there wouldn't be Sam, grinning at her over a plate of bacon. There wouldn't be Lee and his need to haul her up to his level, where she'd have to be a _wife_ and shed her jeans and talk pretty to the other wives, stuck in a box forever. There wouldn't be Hell and Gene and a bed big enough for three and the notion that she's actually done some good in the world.

She don't want to give up any of them. She likes the variety, the different ways they hold her close. But she loves this too, the freedom to ride away. The older she gets, the more complicated life gets. She ain't sixteen anymore. She ain't running away. Either she'll make it work or she'll lose some things - Sam's trust, Lee's love, the new brightness in Gene's eyes, Hell's approval. But she won't lose everything. Hell won't fire her for not fucking them anymore. Sam ain't likely to up and leave her. Lee might, but he's done it before and she survived. She'll keep livin'. Breakin' a heart ain't like breakin' a neck, God forgive her.

"All right," she says to Viper, who's trying to get into her saddlebags for grain, his neck twisted all around. "Let's go home."

\+ + + +

She rides on down the mountain and rubs Viper down, leaves him rooting for wisps of hay in a box. She gets into her truck and drives into town. Sam's just closing up at the feed store. She sits in her truck and watches him through the windows. He's still handsome enough to leave somebody breathless, long and lean in his jeans, the sleeves of his plaid shirt rolled up over his big forearms. She waits while he racks up some merchandise, counts out the register, sweeps the floor, and finally comes out, locking the door behind him.

"Sammy," she calls.

He sees the truck and his face lights up. He saunters over, shoving the keys into his pocket, and slides into the passenger's seat.

"What's up, baby?" he asks, tipping her chin up so he can kiss her.

"I fuck women," she says.

"I hope you don't tell everybody that," he says, his thumb all strokin' her cheek. He's a fool for these little tender gestures. "Folks round here ain't as tolerant as some places. Although more than some others, I guess. But anybody who works for Hellraiser Cain's already lookin' for a fight or so the rumor goes. Good thing you're tough as nails and twice as sharp." He kisses her eyebrow.

"I ain't stupid," she says. "I'm just telling _you_."

"Okay," he says.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Okay. It's okay with me if you fuck women. I mean, it ain't exactly my say, is it? Plus, you've told me enough times that we ain't exclusive here, and on top of that, I kinda like the thought." He winks at her.

"I bet you do," she says, smirking. He smirks back and kisses her again, the kind of long slow liplock that sets her blood boiling with the need to take all his clothes off. She pushes him away with one hand in the middle of his chest. "Wait, Sam."

"Waiting," he says in a low, sexy rumble, but his hands roam over her tits like he ain't gonna wait long.

"I'm fucking my boss and I'm fucking Lee too," she says as steady as she can. "I ain't asking for absolution and I don't plan to quit, neither, but it ain't fair if you don't know."

"I knew about Lee," Sam says slowly. "Kara, I may be a workin' stiff, but I'm not stupid. Word gets around in this town, for one thing. For another, lying ain't the thing you're best at. Didn't know about Hellraiser Cain, but ain't nobody could resist you."

"Lee's probably gonna ask me to come away with him," she tells him. "Wants to settle down, have a little wife, be a city man."

"You gonna go?"

"Hell no," she says with scorn. "Do I look like the marrying type?"

"I think you'd be pretty in a big ole white dress," he says, twisting her hair around his finger.

"You old flatterer," she says. "You oughta be mad about this, Sam. Where's your self-respect?"

"Baby, I love you, but I know you're not planning to settle down," he says, sliding those big arms around her and kissing her hair. Hearing the words sends a little spark all through her, even though she's known a while he loves her. "I take what I can get, as long as I can get it. You never promised me anything past a good lay. Hell, I'm afraid to offer you so much as a drawer in my dresser for fear of spooking you. Grabbing onto you's like to make you leave me, so I ain't tried. If you were my wife, if you'd made me a promise, well, that'd be different. But I got no claim over you that'll hold up, so I just try not to let it matter."

"You're a damn softy is what you are," she says.

"Yeah, that ain't too well tolerated around here either," he says, his mouth all crooked. "Least not by who matters."

"I ain't gonna ditch you for loving me," she says. "Not today, anyway."

"It tears me up," he says quietly. "Every time you leave to go to him. Maybe now every time you leave to go to her. But I'm smart enough to know when I can't do a damn thing about it, 'cept try to keep you happy enough to stick around."

"You do a good enough job," she tells him. "Sammy, why're you stuck on me? You could have any woman in this town. Hell, move away. You could find somebody anywhere."

"Can't help it," he says. "You're the one."

"You always want what you can't have," she says.

"Maybe so," he says, and kisses her, and this time she shuts up.

\+ + + +

She spends the night at Sam's, the two of them touching and kissing and fucking each other until they're so sweaty and exhausted she thinks they'll melt right into each other and wake up as one big lumpy critter. She even wakes him in the morning when she goes, for a kiss and a morning blowjob, just so he'll go around with a shit-eating grin. She walks into Lee's office just as it opens, his partner lawyer - Lamprey, is that his name? No, Lampkin - smirking at her.

"You must be the ineffable Kara Thrace," he says in a gravelly voice with a touch of an accent.

"Damn right I can't be effed," she snaps back. "Where's Lee?"

"I imagine Mister Adama will be arriving soon," Lampkin says. "He's so assiduously punctual."

"Assiduously?" Kara asks, not really listening.

"I mean he has a stick up his ass the size of a redwood," Lampkin says smoothly. "The man positively overfloweth with virtue, save when someone goads him into a rare moment of rebellion. It's sickening, don't you think?"

"I could drink with you," Kara says, eying him up and down, and Lampkin smirks.

"Some day I may take you up on that," he says. "No more than one, mind. I've got a delicate system."

Lee walks in then, looking as polished as anyone can in early summer, when the heat hits early. "Kara!" he says, startled.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Lampkin says and wanders off with his coffee, whistling some little tune.

Lee steers her into his office. "Come in, sit down," he says.

"Lee, I can't be what you want me to be," she tells him, still standing.

"I'm sorry?" he says. "What exactly have I asked you to be?"

"Better," she says. "Different. Yours. I can't do it. I ain't gonna change for you."

"Is this about Sam?" he asks.

"It's about every damn thing," she says. "It's about Sam, it's about Zak. It's about Bill and Laura. It's about the happy shiny life you want us to have together and how that's never gonna be true. It's about how you think I'm your dream girl but I know I'm a nightmare."

"You been hitting the early morning happy hour down at the bar?" Lee asks, opening a file folder, his face as stony as she's ever seen.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," she says. "What do you want from life, Lee? A wife, a good job, a nice house, a couple of kids? I can't give you that. I can't give you any of that."

"You were gonna marry Zak," Lee says with sudden passion, slapping down the folder so the papers inside go all skew.

"Zak was different and you goddamn know it," Kara says. "This ain't some fucked up Shakespeare family, Leland. I ain't a trophy neither. You can't win me just by wanting. When you and me are together, yeah, it's good. It's fucking amazing. But every time it's like watching lightning strike and wondering if this time it's gonna destroy us instead of just giving us a thrill. You can't live like that and I don't want to."

"You don't want more than this?" he demands. "You don't want to be more than some bruised-up bronc buster? Kara, in ten years, you'll either be dead, or so broken you'll want to be dead. I don't see how you can blame me for wanting to rescue you from that fate."

"I ain't a damsel in distress!" she growls.

"If you'd just taken Dad's money," he starts.

"I'd be far away from here, that's for damn sure," Kara tells him. "Anywhere to get away from you. But I'd sure as hell still be riding and roping and starting fights, because that's what I do, Lee. That's who I am. I like the edge. I like it rough. You've been running away from that your whole life but I got nowhere to run to."

"You could," he says, low and urgent, stepping close. "You could come with me."

"You don't build your home on the fault line," she says. "When it's good there ain't nothin' I want more in the world than to be with you, out on the land or beggin' you to fuck me harder. But then we fight. That ain't a life to give a child. I should know. And I can't go around with all the hoity-toits making nice and talking fashion. I don't give a damn about any of that."

"Grow up," he says.

"Fuck off," she says.

And then they're in each others' arms and he fucks her over his desk, because that's the way they are. Kara muffles her moans with her own arm, but she's sure Lampkin knows, somehow. Hell, the little bastard's probably listening.

"Marry me," Lee says, his face pushed into her neck. "Come away with me."

Kara shoves him away. "You take that back and think about what you said just now, Adama. Don't you ever say those words to me again."

"Kara..." he starts.

"No," she says, poking a finger into her chest. "No. You remember your brother and the promise I made to him and you think about what you said. If I'm not marrying Zak, I'm not marrying anybody ever, and you should have known it."

"So you're not leaving?" Lee asks as she pulls her jeans back on.

"Not until you try to make me stay," she says, and walks out.

"It won't end here!" he calls after her. "I'm not letting this go without a fight!"

"Tell me something I don't know," she says, weary of it but pleased too, and clambers into her truck to get back to work.

\+ + + +

She tells Sam about the proposal and then fucks away the worry in his eyes. She tells the bunkhouse about it and laughs (Dee winces a little, but seems amused, and Kendra crinkles up her nose). She tells Hell about it and Gene looks sweet and worried.

"But you're not going away?"

"Darlin', there ain't any way you can get rid of me," Kara says, putting extra cowboy into her voice and strutting around the room wearing nothing but Gene's holster. "I'm stuck to you tight as a burr."

"It won't end well," Hell says. "Either you're gonna have to make a choice or cut them loose."

"To hell with that," Kara says. "I made my choice. It's to be just as free and easy as I choose to be. Ain't nobody owns me and I like it that way. I got obligations to my horse and the hand that pays me."

"At least there's still that," Hell says, all dry.

"I'm the one who cuts the check," Gene says, "Dee or me, anyway. Does that mean you're obliged to me?"

"My sweet lord, was that a joke?" Kara teases her. "'Course I am."

"I sign 'em," Hell says. "Where's my respect?"

Kara's reply is muffled because her mouth is against Gene's thigh, but it would have gotten her in trouble anyway, so she don't mind, and Hell don't seem to, neither.

At night, when she's sleeping in her bunk and not next to somebody, the thoughts stampede through her mind like a runaway herd until she thinks she'll choke on the dust they've raised - her mouth is just as dry as it is out on a hard ride. She thinks about Momma. She thinks about Zak, the sweet crinkle of his eyes. She thinks about Bill and how much care he gave her. She thinks about Laura, who always had something left to teach her. She thinks about Zak some more, and Sam, and Lee, and the memories cut together in her head until she's not sure where one ends and the other begins, and wouldn't that be a solution? But then they'd want even more of her, and just when she's finally found her place in the world.

The solace she finds, just like always, is in the work: riding hard, cutting and roping the calves they need to castrate, the steers that are being sold off, the cows that need to be bred.

\+ + + +

Of course, Hell is right and Sam is right and Lee is right, and it all ends in a fight. A knockdown, dragout fight, the kind that smashes bottles and brings the whole town in to watch, the ones who are awake anyway. Kara ain't sure how it starts. She's in the bar with Sam and the rest of the hands, feelin' sleek and slick and three kinds of good in her tight jeans and her black shirt that flashes her cleavage to the room, and then Lee comes in lookin' cranky.

"Kara, what are you doing with him?" Lee demands, glaring her straight in the eye but not looking at Sam.

Sam unfolds that big lanky body as tall as he can. He looks like a brick wall in a nice shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Kara, come on," Lee says, jerking his head, hackles up. "Let's get out of here."

"I think she goes when and where she wants to go," Sam says, pretending he's all polite, but his big fist is resting on the bar.

"Piss off, Lee," Kara says. "And you too, Sammy boy, if you're gonna act that way."

"Hey," Sam says, "I'm defending your right to do what the hell you want. Or who. I don't give a damn."

"Maybe I don't need defending," she says, gritting her teeth.

"That's right," Lee says. "She can take care of herself."

"Sure," Sam says. "She doesn't need your help then, does she?"

"Or yours," Lee says. His whole body looks tense. At least he ain't wearing a tie. This time.

"That's how it's gonna be, huh?" Sam asks nobody in particular.

"Looks like it," Lee answers, and takes a swing at him. Sam's only too happy to pile on, from the grin he's wearin' as he dodges out of the way.

At least it's an entertaining fight, or it would be if she weren't so damn wrapped up in the two of them. She tries to get between them to push them off of each other, but Sam picks her up and just moves her out of the way as he pushes Lee across the floor, which makes her madder than a sack full of wet cats. She kicks him but it don't seem to have much effect and she sure as hell ain't gonna hang onto him like she's tryin' for Springer or some shit. Lee's holding his own despite the fact that Sam's half again as big as he is. He's short but he's tough. Sam's bigger but he's too nice, not fighting dirty enough, and he's leaving Lee openings, and Lee's takin' 'em. Each of 'em's holding his own, though. She don't know how it'll end. The whole bar's eggin' 'em on, pouring beer over them when they get too close, filling the whole place with smoke and whooping and the blaring of that goddamn jukebox playing "Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting".

If it were any other two assholes, even any other two of her lovers, Kara would be laughing her head off and taking bets right about now, but God help her, she loves 'em, and she didn't know how much until now. Didn't know how much they mattered. Didn't know how much she wanted to be able to stay here, to go on forever working Hell's ranch and learning all kinds of new things from Gene and talking shit with Dee and Felix and Boomer and Athena and Skulls and eating hotcakes with Sam and making up for history with Lee. Didn't know how much she cared about this house of cards she's built until it all started to topple. But she cares. She cares and she'll brace it up with her own body if she has to. She fights her way back into the scrum, dodging the punches her men are throwing at each other. She wedges her body between theirs, and the thought flickers through her head how nice it would be if they could all just be like this only naked in bed instead of clothed and trying to take each other's heads off.

"This ain't even between the two of you!" Kara screams. "It's you and me that have a problem! Me and him!"

Sam looks at her with those blue eyes, one of 'em blacked already and a bruise coming up in his pretty cheek. Lee never would pull his punches. Sam holds his own, though, staring her down.

"I know, baby, but it makes me feel better," he says and jukes out of the way and decks Lee, who shakes his head like his ears are ringing but doesn't go down. They step around Kara, not even bothering to push her out of the way this time, so she settles for yelling instead.

Kara's hollering fit to wake the whole town and Lee's shaking his head and ramming it into Sam's gut, pushing him back across the slippery floor, and that, of course, is when Hellraiser Cain walks in, lookin' like she owns the place.

"Hell!" Kara says, a little desperate and a little relieved, and the assholes at the bar who've been watchin' Lee and Sam go after it turn and look at her instead. "Oh, fuck."

"Must be onea those _intimates_ ," snickers the ugliest, dirtiest, drunkest sumbitch of them all. "How do you like it, cuntlicker? You like it on your knees? Ole Hellraiser, she probably got a dick anyway, and you're just suckin' on her balls. You like it when she rams her dick down your throat, huh? You know I could give you better." Kara just can't take any of it anymore: she clocks him one. He falls off his stool.

"That was stupid," Hell says in her ear, suddenly at her side.

"It felt good," Kara says sullenly.

"Hope the next one feels just as good," Hell says, taking out her knife, "because we're about to get mobbed."

She puts her back against Kara's and keeps it there as the jackasses start coming and keep coming. They're circling Hell and Kara. Sam and Lee are in their own knot across the room. Kara's tempted to call out - this oughta break up their dumbass scuffle - but she ain't about to start letting anybody else fight her battles for her. She brought this on herself fair and square.

"Dyke," one of 'em says, holding an empty beer bottle by the neck. "I shoulda known."

"Maybe she's just got taste," Hell says.

"Maybe she just ain't had a real man in too long," the jackass says, and spits on the floor.

"Well, you sure as hell wouldn't qualify," Kara snaps. He throws a punch at her and misses, but Hell's there and slashes with the knife. The guy's arm blooms red. He snarls and pulls a pistol out of his belt and the bartender starts shouting. Kara tries to kick it out of his hand like she's in some goddamn movie because it's the only goddamn thing she can think to do when he's leveling the pistol at her and one of the others grabs her foot and shoves and she topples Hell and falls through the air, arms waving, and there's a shot, and Kara's body jerks.

And another shot.

Then: heat pain red white and a floating feeling. Hell's bending over Kara, dark hair loose and her face bloody. And Gene's there too, which can't be right, Gene with her short hair and her pretty neck and her tits strapped in tight again.

"Are you here?" Kara says. Gene is stroking her face, but Kara can't really feel her fingers. Gene's fingers. Or come to think of it, her own that are supposed to be at the ends of her hands. Her body's too hot, or maybe too cold, because all her nerves are on fire like that time she almost froze to death and Zak chafed her back to life. It's hard to breathe.

"Gene?" she asks.

"I'm sorry," Gene's saying. "I'm sorry, I tried to save you. I'm so sorry, Starbuck, when he pushed you I couldn't take the shot, I couldn't hit him first."

She puts something down next to Kara's face. A gun. It's hot against Kara's cheek, because she can't seem to stop her head flopping over. Breathing ain't the easy thing it's been the past twenty-odd years either. Kara can't but gasp.

"'S okay," she says with the breath she can manage. "Gene, 's okay. 'S okay. You tried."

"Sam, get over here," Hell orders. "We're taking her to the hospital."

Sam picks her up. Now her head's flopped against his chest, and he smells like sweat and fear and beer and blood. "Stay with me, baby," he says. "Just a little longer, stay with me."

"Kara, hold on," Lee says, somewhere close. She thinks he's got his hand on her forehead, holding her. "Hold on."

"Can't," she rasps, and floats away.

\+ + + +

Lee goes back to the city, leaves Lampkin and becomes a minor associate somewhere, working hundred hour weeks to try to take his mind off things. People slap him on the back, tell him he'll make partner in a couple of years the way he's going. He drinks his pain away. He's a lawyer. He's expected to drink.

Bill and Laura grieve in their own way, taking comfort in each other. They talk about selling the bucket, about buying a cabin in the woods. Laura calls an architect. They make plans. On the fireplace, there's a triptych frame with Zak's picture and Kara's and Lee's.

Sam just keeps on working. Not much else to be done. He thinks about leaving, but he goes nowhere. He picks up an application for the community college, though - might as well use his nights to finish his degree. He bought Viper from Hellraiser. Both of them miss Kara. He rides out more than he used to, thinks about leaving town. He goes on a few dates, but nobody's Kara. Nobody could be.

Gene loosens her bindings little by little. She still wears her holster, but she thinks about letting her hair grow out. Now and again she goes to the grocery store by herself, eyes wide at first, watching everybody, but gradually she gets calmer. It's a process.

Hell doesn't take near as many overnight trips as she did. She lets the hands take the long trips. She and Gene take longer vacations more places. She buys Gene a dress. Gene wears it. It's a miracle.

The bunkhouse feels empty. Hell hasn't hired anyone new. Kendra carves "Starbuck" into the footboard of Kara's bunk. Even Narcho feels the emptiness of it. He hesitates a split second as he deals the cards. Dee sighs as she makes the coffee and twists Billy's ring around her finger.

\+ + + +

In the little cemetery on the hilltop, there's a gravestone. It's plain, not much on it but a name. Never seems lonely, though - there's always something by it, a bottle of beer or a letter or a little bunch of flowers. The high school kids dare each other to drink the beer, but hardly anybody actually does it.

Gene plants some bulbs there one year, out digging up the soil in full view of anyone who happens to wander by the lonely cemetary. A few people see her, but nobody talks to her. One woman waves, though, and Gene waves back. The next year, she and Hell plant a tree. The next year, they put in a bench, and now and again they go up there with a picnic lunch, just to sit, especially the first fine day of the year.

Today is especially fine, only March and mild as milk. They've brought sandwiches and cold asparagus, which Gene was delighted to find at the store. She chases the last spear around the box with a fork and holds it up in triumph. Hell grins at her.

"Done with that now?"

"Almost," Gene tells her.

"Come on," Hell says. "You'll get a sunburn. Don't make me haul you away like last time."

"The sun is so nice," Gene says, tilting her face up to it. Her hair is growing out in tendrils that just brush the nape of her neck. "Just a few more moments, Helena liebchen?"

"I'll meet you at the truck, honeybee," Hell says, trying for gruff and missing by a mile.

Gene waits until Hell's a ways down the hill before she eases herself down next to the stone and brushes away the dust. Her hands are tender. She pulls out a handkerchief and polishes the face of the stone, making sure that it's clean.

"It's spring again," she says quietly to no one. "I feel alive. I feel better all the time, Kara. And I never got to thank you. So. Thank you." She touches the grass over the grave.

"Swear to God, darlin', I will leave without you," Hell's voice floats up the hill.

"Coming!" Gene shouts back, and gets up and dusts off her hands.

"Thank you," she whispers one last time, and goes down the hill.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ride 'Em, Cowgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/137378) by [leiascully](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully)




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